End of the Road
by control of chaos
Summary: Alex Rider no longer works for MI6, but Ben Daniels fully intends to retrieve his partner from SCORPIA's grasp. He only wonders what drove Alex to join them.
1. Prologue

Prologue for _End of the Road_. This is the new series I've been procrastinating on getting up. It is going to be **nothing** like my _Safehouse_ arc, for now at least, with the exception that I'm leaving my OC in K-Unit (Falcon) and everyone who played a role in my previous arc will be keeping similar personalities to what they had in my original arc. I know that's lazy, but I can't picture them any other way. **You do not have to have read my Safehouse arc previous to this.**

_End of the Road_ begins about two years after the end of the series, with the exception that the epilogue never happened.

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><p>The assassin stepped off the Eurostar train, officially entering England. He was dressed in plain clothes and a dark hoodie with a bored expression. None of the policemen idly scanning the crowd even took a second glance at him, and his fellow travelers acted much the same, neither noticing nor particularly caring.<p>

Stepping out into bustling London, he pulled the hood down to better see the street signs. Recalling the directions his teacher had given him, he hailed a cab. It was three minutes before one finally pulled up. When the driver asked him where he wanted to go, he passed him a slip of paper with the address. His hands were covered with thin gloves. The cab driver immediately assumed it was to protect against the week of bitter cold weather that London was currently under, but the assassin had donned them specifically so his fingerprints wouldn't be carelessly left on anything he touched.

While the cab was moving, he unzipped the grey and dark blue backpack that had been his only luggage for the trip over. He drew out a jacket similar to the one he was wearing, though subtly different, and slipped into that one, stuffing the other back inside his bag.

In reality, they were essentially the same jacket. It was just that the one he was currently garbed in had some extra features added to it that he couldn't wear while getting through security. His bag had been manufactured to disguise the gun hidden in a case looking just like a science fiction novel. Two other books in the same genre were included to make it a more genuine cover. Not only that, but it had hidden the secondary jacket from view. Inside the jacket's pockets were a plain switchblade, a rather nasty looking kukri* that secreted the venom of the deadly inland taipan**, and a remodeled Swiss army knife. Of course, on the outside it was just a plain piece of defensive clothing, lined with a nearly invisible layer of Kevlar that included his hood and was completely fire-retardant. A slick material that camouflaged with the jacket enveloped the outside to absorb metal detecting signals, keeping guns, knives and other equipment from being immediately detected. SCORPIA wouldn't just shoo their agents out the door with merely the minimal protection.

He smoothed out his hair, adding dark brown streaks into it as he did, and switched out the pants for higher quality jeans. Overall he still looked like your basic teenager, but now he gave off the appearance and arrogance of one with a rich father.

The cab driver never took a second glance at him, but if he had, it would have been a completely different person than the one who had stepped into his taxi seven minutes earlier.

With his head cocked to the side and jacket rippling in the ever-present wind, the teenager could have owned the whole place. Which was just the effect he was trying to create. At the entrance of a towering hotel, he arrogantly thrust over his ID to the sentry—because he was more of a guard than a clerk or attendant—who waved him in after keying the entry code for the day into a well-concealed panel by the door frame. This was not just a hotel, after all, but a fortress for visiting guests who had either the money or contacts to get a room.

On the inside, the hotel could have been made purely out of the finest glass and diamonds. The only traces of metal were beautifully wound through the one-way glass in the elevators and hanging hallways, which were safely secured by the strongest metals despite appearances. The very floor was wrought from a bulletproof glass, as well as the walls. Even the front desk where the alert clerk sat seemed to be carved straight from the purest crystal.

Inwardly smirking at how easily this was going, he set his mind towards the next obstacle. The cameras would be tracing his movements, expecting him to head towards the third floor room that the kid who'd originally owned this card had been paying for. His target was on the second floor. It was possible, but not certain, that getting off on a different floor would trigger a silent security alarm. He didn't have another plan, placing all his hopes on his uncanny luck and hope that the guards would overlook him as another harmless teenager.

He swiped his card in the slot beside the elevator. With a gentle swish of air, the doors opened instantly and let him step into the empty cabin. As soon as the elevator doors were tightly secured, he jabbed his thumb over the tiny retinal scanner. Until it got a reading, the cabin would not move in the shaft. As it buzzed impatiently, he pulled out the switchblade and flicked the blade out with a quick motion in his wrist. Making sure to leave no telltale scratches along the sides of the panel, he delicately pried open a small metal tile above the scanner. Just as he'd expected, the mechanics were placed in identical places as those on other elevators SCORPIA had gotten for him to practice on. Instead of disengaging the two wires that controlled the cabin and reconnecting them by hand, putting him at a high risk of self-electrocution, he used the switchblade to tap one of the small mechanisms down a notch. The suppressor would have automatically dropped him on the third floor, as his card had informed it in the moment it was scanned. His small change in the mechanism would place him on the second. When it returned to the first floor, it would erase the glitch he had put into it and no one would be the wiser.

Re-securing the tile, he put a special contact lens in his right eye before releasing his hold on the scanner. The plain-looking lens was built with nano-processors that could virtually imitate a three-dimensional model on a two-dimensional surface, a.k.a. his retina. It worked on all existing scanners to date. Without the annoying burst of light that some retinal scanners emitted, the device identified his eye as that of the card's holder and proceeded to what it believed was the correct floor.

The minute he stepped off the lift, he began watching for the cameras that would mark his progress through the glass corridor. At high noon, it was only to be expected that most of the hotel's occupants were out enjoying the day or attending to their work, so he didn't worry about running into anyone else on his way to the target's room. The cleaning service wouldn't be passing this way again until he left his room, which he knew through SCORPIA's contacts that that wouldn't occur until well after supper. The target had just traveled a long distance and was not yet recovered from his jet lag.

Outside the target's door, he pulled out the Swiss army knife. The original model wouldn't have been nearly as helpful as the one a fellow assassin had remade for him. The girl was an absolute genius with her tools, and she had insisted that this was nothing special. He thought quite differently as he extracted the set of lock picking rods from the vast assortment of useful metal pieces. This little bundle of tools was absolutely ingenious and among his favorite gadgets.

While the lock was technically supposed to only be serviceable through its owner's card, and the master key of course, it had become recently evident that there needed to be a second way through the door should an issue arise with the lock***. Using the flat bit of one rod, he twiddled with the small crevice beneath the bit where you slide your card until the crevice became a much more evident crack, at which point he bluntly forced it sideways to fully open. Once inside the secondary key hole, he used the twin set of typical lock-picking rods, albeit smaller versions for the considerably smaller hole. Five seconds of irksomely difficult tweaks and adjustments later, he heard the door's various locks release. Réussite.

Knowing that if the target was awake he would undoubtedly have heard the door noisily disengage the locks, he fumbled with the hollow book to remove his Beretta 92G-SD. While not as safe as some other Beretta models during reloading, it was quicker to fire when one needed to act on their reflexes without taking the time to line up a shot. Not only that, but if the trigger pin broke, it could be fitted in backwards and safely work as its own backup and it had an open slide design, allowing for emergency tactical reloading. The gun was simple and almost impossible to jam. Perfect for law enforcement and assassins.

He took a steadying breath before kicking the door open and aiming his gun at the first things within sight inside the room. After all his careful planning for potential unexpected tribulations, he was thoroughly gratified to find the target sound asleep, undisturbed by either the door unlocking or being kicked in. Dropping his bag by the door, which he quietly closed after entering, Alex pulled out the kukri by its long inwardly bent blade and set out to create a message worthy of SCORPIA.

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><p>AN: Sorry for making Alex so evil, but I really wondered how things would go if things went south for MI6's teenage spy. This is a prologue, just so you know, and that's the reason for it being so short. I would have had this up sooner, but I ate the wrong chocolate bar and, voilà, emergency room for Tsuki. Due to that, I missed half my final exams and had to cram all five into _one day_. Somehow, I managed to pull awesome scores on all five. In celebration, you get not one, but _two_ chapters today! Can I get a "hell yeah!" for summer vacation?

Once again, this is in no way related to my previous arc. People may act the same but, excluding the events in the real series, there are **no** ties to my previous arc whatsoever.

*You have to search for images, but this is the bitch of all knives. More machete than knife, really. Totally serious. I'm still on my Dresden Files rampage, wonderful books they are, and Thomas was just wielding one like it was the newest fashion. Don't I wish. It was the first thing that came to mind, so…yeah.

**The inland taipan, thankfully only found in Australia, is said to have the most lethal venom.

***I honestly don't know if this is true, but it sounded realistic enough to utilize. I'm a computer hacker, people, not a master cat burglar. But then, I would say that if I was one, wouldn't I? *evil laughter*


	2. Chapter 1

Part one of _End of the Road_.

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><p>Wolf crossed his arms, his body language saying the same thing as the scowl on his face. "Sir, we're SAS. Soldiers, not bloody search-and-rescue. If MI6 lost one of their guys, let them retrieve him themselves."<p>

The sergeant was rubbing his temples, no less irked by the situation than K-Unit. "Yes, yes. That was my argument to them as well, but they insisted that they had already done all they could. Besides, there were hints that it wouldn't be as easy as just retrieving the spy. Evidently, some…_violence_ might be required to get him back. Rumor is that he's switched sides."

"Is this going to be more along the lines of shooting and avoiding landmines, sir, because we don't specialize in the sneaky stuff." His shoulders stiffened as they both heard the knock on the door. "Honestly, tell them they're looking at the wrong guys."

The door opened before the sergeant could say the words, "Come in." Wolf found himself both momentarily startled and angered at the man who entered the room. "Fox."

"Wolf," the former SAS soldier, now MI6 spy, acknowledged. "Thought I might see you here. So, is K-Unit taking the job?"

"Taking the job?" His glare could have melted through walls of solid steel, much less mere human flesh. "Fox, you might have wanted to escape the front lines and work for the suits in espionage, but I sure as hell am not letting you drag the rest of my team off on one of your escapades. Find someone else to do the dirty work."

Fox was less than intimidated, which further surprised Wolf. The man had never been weak, but he certainly hadn't been nearly as sure of himself as he was now. From his strong stance to the easy meeting of his former team leader's eyes, he could be nearly as daunting as Wolf himself. Whatever he was doing, the job was changing him. "As a matter of fact, I think this job is right up your alley. I don't need someone sneaking around in the shadows, but a bunch of men capable of taking out anyone trying to kill me."

He refused to budge from his position. "You could grab anyone else. People better at whatever it is you're doing. Why us?"

"Because you guys are still my friends, even if we only see each other a couple times a year," he sighed. "Plus I won't have to brief you too much on the spy that I'm trying to get back. Other units might hesitate to help me if they knew who he was."

"I don't think we know any spies except you, Fox."

"On the contrary, you just think you don't know him. After all, Cub made quite the impression while he was here." He fished a small picture from his pocket, the kind you would find on a driver's license or passport. Wolf's brow furrowed further as the spy continued. "Alex was my partner for a year before he went missing on a simple in and out inspection in Pakistan. SCORPIA, the terrorist organization that recently suffered a couple terrible blows, sent Blunt, the head of MI6, an untraceable email that claimed they had killed Alex. We assumed that it was just another threat against him-" Another threat? Wolf wondered at what kind of job the kid was doing. "-but when he never called in, and missed his ride back, Alex was written off as dead." His lips twisted into a both proud and dismayed smirk. "He wasn't the kind to be taken alive." Before the soldier could get the words together to protest a kid being used in such a way, Fox flicked his fingers and a second photo materialized from behind the first. Both were handed over to him. "This shot was taken yesterday afternoon in London from a hidden surveillance camera above the Eurostar station in London. He managed to turn just the right way to avoid the older cameras, but this one had just been installed yesterday morning."

The photo wasn't perfect quality, but it caught the face of a kid with a hoodie mostly shading his face with stellar clarity. The bored look combined with the bookbag slung over his shoulders gave him a generic schoolboy expression, but the dark piercing eyes and way he held himself—wary, as if he would bolt at the slightest sound—stood him apart from the rest. It was Alex, and everything about him screamed _dangerous_ when you looked more closely.

"What happened to him?" Wolf heard a tremor in his voice before he got it under control. "He looks…different."

Fox's expression said all there needed to be said, but he spoke anyway. "MI6 thinks SCORPIA brainwashed him."

"But you don't."

"No, you had to have kno…" he stopped as he realized his verbs were all past tense. Evidently, some part of him hadn't gotten used to the kid rising from the dead. "Alex was…is the most headstrong and stubborn person I know. He doesn't hurt people, and he would never work for terrorists. Especially SCORPIA. They…those people ruined his life. I'll be truthful with you, Wolf. MI6 doesn't want it known, but we're all he has left. SCORPIA killed his entire family and more recently, his guardian. They've made frequent attempts on his life. The only ones not dead who've ever known him are the spies he's worked with and K-Unit." Fox spun to face the wall and lightly thump his fist against hit. "He told me once that he'd long ago pushed the rest of his friends at school away in fear that they could get caught in the crossfire some day. I was his only friend, and now that I know he isn't dead…" he turned back to look Wolf in the eyes, his own blazing in fury, "I'm going to get him back."

Wolf nodded. After all, who could say no to that? "Where is he now?"

At this, the spy deflated. "As I was getting on the chopper to get here, Blunt sent me a message that he had just left the hotel that a foreign diplomat from the Middle East was staying at. The diplomat was found dead, his throat slashed open and blood everywhere."

The eyes in the photo, the flat dead hazel ones, felt like they were staring through him. His instincts had been right. The somewhat-innocent kid that had trained with them three years ago was now an assassin to the soul. He swallowed hard. Just what had he gotten himself into? And how could Fox still believe the teenager wasn't on the other team? "But you think we can get him back?"

"Yes." The fire had returned. "We have to."

The SAS soldier met his former teammate's gaze before shaking his head tiredly and muttering, "Guess this means I'll have to cut into my vacation time."

"Actually, you won't be."

Fox and Wolf snapped their heads sharply to the side as the sergeant continued to sign his initials on various documents. "Sir?"

"Seeing as how you don't have much vacation time left, after you took the month off to stay with your daughter while she had the flu. Anyway, according to this tiny little file," which he held up without ever letting his line of sight drift from his work, "you and Snake had your arms and legs severely torn up while scaling a fence between you and the terrorist cell."

"Sir, that's true but it wasn't as bad as—"

The sergeant did lift his head up this time, one eyebrow arched. "Is that so?" he interrupted. "If my memory serves me right, the two of you were ordered to go on temporary leave to recover until I determined you were fit to return to duty."

Fox smirked. "This wouldn't happen to be a medical leave you're putting them on? In other words, one that wouldn't take days from their vacation time and allow them to receive minimal pay until they return to duty?"

"That would be correct. I do believe that your other teammates, Eagle and Falcon, should stay off duty as well. There are no other teams that need temporary members, so I see no reason that they shouldn't join you on a couple weeks of paid leave."

Wolf glared at both the sergeant and Fox, who seemed like equal partners in pulling off this feat. He ground his teeth as he said, "I'll rally the troops."

"As long as you sustain no unexplainable injuries, there should be no question as to the integrity of K-Unit's sudden leave."

"Yes, sir." As he moved past Fox, he rested a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Meet you in five." He took a couple deep breaths in and out as he thought of how to break the news to his team. He wasn't even sure how he felt about it himself. When Cub had arrived, the team had assumed, as anyone in their position would have, that he'd gotten on the wrong side of a rich father and maybe been arrested a few times. Of course, the kid had acted perfectly behaved and it had been his team, including himself most of all, who had been the immature ones. The point had been to get him binned or force him to the point of calling up his father to let him free of the camp, yet with each incident, Cub had accepted them and calmly done the best he could. Knowing now that not only had he been an orphan, but trying to get serious training for an undercover operation, he felt guilty.

He pushed open the cabin door to find Falcon with his foot placed firmly on Eagle's back and Snake on his bunk, calmly reading _The Two Towers_*and purposefully ignoring the latest bickering match. His team looked up as he entered with a solemn and shadowed expression, not commenting on either Falcon or Eagle's lack of maturity, as was the norm by now, or rolling his eyes in self-sympathy with Snake. Falcon removed his foot, scared of what had happened, and Eagle rolled up into a squatting position. Even Snake closed his book, looking up with a worried frown.

"We're going on "medical leave", courtesy of SIS**. Have your stuff ready in the next two minutes. Briefing will be en route." As soon as the word 'ready' left his lips, the three moved into a flurry of activity, clothes and other necessities already placed within easy reach in anticipation of this very scenario. Wolf let the microscopic smile escape his lips as he watched them, pride burning brightly in his chest. His team trusted him to do the right thing and know what was going on, biting back their questions until a better opportunity presented itself.

Grabbing his own cargo bag, which he had never bothered to unpack, he waited patiently at the cabin door. Everyone was packed within half the allotted time and quickly walking to the small landing zone that sat just a few hundred feet from the firing range. Nothing bigger than an averaged sized helicopter could fit in the area, and no more than one at a time either. Wolf was only mildly shocked to see that Fox was manning the controls. In their time at Brecon Beacons, there had never been more than the basic courses on piloting; they hadn't been expected to do much of that unless their pilot was shot or became debilitated mid-flight. The spy, on the other hand, looked comfortable where he sat, no hesitation whatsoever. When he adjusted the controls, it was with the lax movements of someone who had done the same thing repeatedly until it became second nature.

Eagle nearly caught Fox in a surprise hug until Snake grabbed him, yanking him forcefully back by the nape of his neck. "Good to see you again," Fox grinned, twisting back momentarily to make sure everyone had their limbs inside the vehicle and none were absent. "Hold on tight, I gotta make this trip in half the time I normally would." The blades atop the chopper began to spin in lazy circles at the flick of his fingers, their rotations growing faster and faster.

When they were airborne and thoroughly underway, Wolf turned on the headset covering his ears and jutting to the side of his mouth. The rest of K-Unit followed suit and, once he registered all three clicks, he began speaking. "Fox needs help getting one of his own back," he began only to be interrupted by Falcon's polite cough.

"Uh, who's Fox?"

He sighed. Of course, Falcon was the most recent recruit to K-Unit. "He's the guy you replaced. Fox was hired by MI6 for some reason, so he's no longer SAS."

"Oh. Alrighty then."

"So Fox's partner was presumed dead when he went missing in the Middle East, and SCORPIA claimed responsibility for his death."

This time it was Snake that interjected. "SCORPIA?" The medic's face had visibly paled. "He must have gotten in really deep to have them after him. That's practically a death sentence."

"It _is_ a death sentence," Fox's voice came in grimly from the cockpit, where he had evidently entered into their feed without any of them hearing.

"They're not just a terrorist group," Wolf explained to the confused Eagle, who was still green around the edges in the worldwide military going-ons and the youngest of the unit. "They have authority over just about every terrorist anywhere in the world. Supposedly, they can have anyone killed with one phone call to the right person. There's more to it, but there are more immediate concerns at hand."

"He wasn't dead," Snake guessed and Wolf nodded a confirmation.

"SIS has pictures of him in London. They believe he assassinated a foreign diplomat for SCORPIA."

"God, that's…" Falcon thought it over. "Is he a double agent then?"

Wolf raised his shoulders in a 'maybe'. "The evidence that suggests he killed the diplomat is all based on coincidence. There's no hard proof, but it still looks very likely that he did."

"And we're being called in to help…why?"

Wolf took in a ragged breath and exhaled again to keep his tone steady and unemotional. "The spy was one of our former teammates. It seemed right to help get him back."

Snake frowned. "But Fox was part of our original team, and Falcon's been the only replacement we've ever gotten. There hasn't been anyone else."

"Remember the time during training early on when we had a fifth team member?" he asked quietly.

"Cub," Eagle and Snake both breathed. If they hadn't spoken simultaneously, he might not have heard them say the name. Falcon looked scrambled once more.

"Cub was dropped in during training for ten days with no apparent reasoning behind why he was here," Snake explained. "He couldn't have been sixteen at the time—"

"Fourteen," Fox cut in.

"—and we didn't exactly give him the red carpet welcome. He just left one day and we never saw him again."

Wolf twitched where he sat, not mentioning Point Blanc due to the OSA forms MI6 had made him sign.

Fox, as the only one in the group who actually knew anything about Alex, picked up where Snake left off. "MI6 had recruited him immediately after his uncle's death. The spy business was in his blood and he picked up his uncle's mission when he left BB. Ever since then, he's been the youngest spy that we know of."

Snake almost laughed. "And he ticked off SCORPIA? I'm impressed."

"He almost destroyed them," he said in all seriousness. "He was running active coordination against them before we lost track of him seven months ago." Eagle whistled and everyone glared at him as it sharply pierced their eardrums via the headsets.

"Wait up," Snake said, raising a hand. "He's reappeared in London and supposedly killed a diplomat in cold blood? If he was fourteen then, he would be sixteen or seventeen now. He's not a killer, just a teenager with really crappy job choices."

K-Unit waited for Fox to back that up, but all they heard was the near-silent fuzz of static.

A minute later, he answered softly, "It wouldn't be the first time he's killed. By my count, this one would be number twenty. Maybe more. I wasn't with him on every mission."

Wolf suddenly felt sick to his stomach and he knew from the expressions around him that he wasn't the only one. MI6 hadn't just recruited a kid to do their bidding; they'd twisted a kid into a trained killer.

"But I don't think he would ever murder an innocent person," Ben quickly added, "and he would never work for the people who killed his family. That's just insane."

Wolf spoke up. "If he's been imprisoned by SCORPIA for over half a year, they could have made him do just about anything. Hell, any of us would have given in by now. They're masters of torture and deception."

"It doesn't matter either way," Fox insisted. "He's my partner and I owe him my life at least three times over. Whether he wants to or not, I'm dragging his ass back home with me."

"And we'll be backing you up," Wolf said. "For how we treated him at camp, we're in his debt."

"He's our teammate, technically," Snake agreed and Eagle rapidly nodded, adding "We'd do no less for any of our own."

Falcon huffed. "All I know is that some kid out there is neck deep in shit out there and only a couple years older than my niece." He threw his hands up the best he could in a cramped space. "What the hell. Count me in."

Fox's weak chuckle carried over their frequency. "Good, because if he doesn't recognize us we might be screwed. More seriously, don't be afraid to go all out against him. He's better than most people and I'm damned sure he's better than all of us. Especially if he's lost his morals on killing innocents."

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><p>AN: Two chapters in one day? I must be dreaming. I never get these posted this fast. Remember, there is **no** correlation between _End of the Road_ and my _Safehouse_ arc.

* Yes, I am a total geek. Just finished the part in the Dresden Files series where Uriel leaves Dresden the copy of _The Twin Towers_ (Lord of the Rings book 2). Who knew that such wisdom could be extracted from the best science fiction series the world has ever known? Oh wait, c'est moi. ^^

** SIS (Secret Intelligence Service) is the official name of MI6 (Mission Intelligence 6). I use the names interchangeably, because sometimes one sounds better than the other.


	3. Chapter 2

Part two of _End of the Road_.

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><p>The assassin would have walked to his next stop, but he wound up taking the tube once he realized how late it was getting. The upper-class teenage look had been refurbished, returned to the plain hoodie and jeans approach. While the streaks from the dye he had used wouldn't fade out as fast as he would have liked, he could cover them up with another layer of it. The blond hair streaked brown became a dull auburn. With a few touches of the dye to his eyebrows, the effect looked entirely natural on him.<p>

With another five minutes to his destination, and absolutely nothing to fill his time except re-read the abandoned newspaper from the seat beside him, he leaned back in his spot and tried to relax. He found this more difficult to actually do than it was to visually replicate the feeling. Something in that almost disturbed him.

His cell phone buzzed once in his back pocket and he frowned. A single short vibration meant it was a text message; two short and one long signified an incoming call. The phone was a private line, only accessible by a certain group of people. As careful as they were, there was no way that SCORPIA would be sending him anything while he was in the field unless it pertained to glitches in the planning. A number of worries flitted about in his head before he quenched them down to flip open the cell phone.

It was a short message, one-worded in fact: compromised.

Snapping the top and bottom back together again, he slid the cell back in his bag and stood up. He needed to get off at the next stop, no matter where it was. Crowded enclosed places, such as here, made it difficult to blend in. He would feel safer the moment he was out.

As the train pulled to a complete stop, the doors finally parting to allow passengers to disembark, he grabbed his pack and strode off as calmly as he could possibly pretend to be. At the same time he stepped through the doors, he began pulling the handle of the Beretta hidden in his bag to a more easily accessible spot. His eyes nervously flitted between the dozen security cameras that he knew the locations of.

Being found out was worse than failure. Worse than death itself. If he had simply been killed, it would have meant that he had taken the secrets he was holding to himself. Making it back to SCORPIA intact would still have its consequences. Failure was not taking well.

While he nervously tracked as many surveillance cameras as was humanly possible, he luckily caught one of them move separately of its designated course for the few seconds it took for him to recognize it as MI5's. Missions Intelligence in Sector 5 was notorious for having their eyes and ears in every corner of England, their home base London even more so.

Once he got out of range, even if it was just for a couple seconds, he needed to become someone completely different. The word compromised had not been followed by abort, so SCORPIA still intended to finish the job. Two more targets and he could leave this city behind him. Tracing the angles of the newest cameras, that had been semi-camouflaged by MI5 to look two years older, he roughly estimated a point that wouldn't be covered by the doors. He would only have a few seconds before MI5 began manually turning the cameras, but that was all he needed.

Seven. He kept glancing at the cameras, as MI5 and SIS would have expected of him. The boy that the twin agencies had raised between them these last three years was not stupid, but he was ten times smarter than they had ever realized. _Six_. An extra disguise had been bundled into his backpack before leaving Italy, but he hadn't planned on using it until the assassination of the third target. Of course, he also hadn't planned on either of the intelligence organizations realizing who was responsible for the assassinations until he was well out of the country. _Five_. Instead of worrying about it again, he smiled. This only made the game more fun.

The doors were finally visible, as was the blind spot he was aiming for. _Four_. Sure, a camera was covering the area, but it wasn't one owned by either MI5 or SIS. They wouldn't look to the regular camera feeds until he was a good distance away and under a new façade. _Three_.

_Two_.

_One_.

He abruptly stopped and ducked down, obscuring his image from one of MI5's cameras by using the two tall men who had been coming up behind him. From where he had readied them in his pack, he grabbed a color-stripping formula and dumped it over his head, careful to keep his eyes and mouth shut while it removed every single bit of make-up he was using. Even the cream he had used to darken his skin a couple shades was peeling off. The streaks wouldn't come out entirely, fading at best, but it was enough to accomplish his idea. He took off his jacket to liberally rub off anything left over before dumping it in his bag. The plain shirt he was wearing was just that: a shirt. However, it was also reversible. From the dull blue, he pulled it over his head and put it on inside out to reveal a simple red one. There wasn't much he could do about the jeans, but seeing as most of them looked identical, it didn't cross his mind to do much there.

When he stood up ten seconds later, he looked vastly different and yet eerily familiar. This was Alex Rider he showed to the world, not a boy with layers of masks and disguises. It was also the last thing MI5 or SIS would ever expect, because what spy would ever recklessly expose himself?

As he made his way towards the door, he slipped into a white jacket with some major clothing company's logo across the front, once more free of surveillance. Well, the cameras anyway…

* * *

><p>Fox landed the chopper perfectly atop MI5's headquarters. SIS was currently using their own, so they had given him use of MI5's. He flicked off the blades and unfastened his seatbelt, hopping out with a small leap before recalling that he had to manually disengage the doors. Facepalming himself, he climbed back in and pressed a small green button. The electronic locking system switched off and K-Unit was finally allowed to get out.<p>

Wolf stepped out looking a little pale, and Fox had to suppress a smirk. Evidently he still hadn't gotten over his phobia of heights. Despite that, he still managed to have his glare fully blazing while watching everything except the edges of the building. "Where do we head from here?" he demanded.

"Towards the Eurostar's entrance into London. MI5 has been sending me info as they get it," he pointed to the white earbud in his left ear, which could easily have been mistaken for an iPod earbud, "and that's where their cameras finally lost him." The wry smirk was once more evident on his face. He knew how good his partner was, and took pride in that despite currently being on opposite sides of the board. "Frankly, I'd expected as much of Alex and took it upon myself to use three of our freshest recruits to track him from a distance. He won't recognize them, as he wasn't with us when they were hired. They've been instructed to take no action against him, get no closer than a hundred feet, and switch off every three to six minutes. Using the GPS system they are keeping on themselves, we can determine his approximate location."

"That's quite a few precautions, Fox," Snake noted. "Worried?"

"Are you kidding? I'm still certain I've handed those kids their death sentences." He studied his shoes, keeping his eyes from meeting any of K-Units. "Alex is good, too good, and SCORPIA may have destroyed his mind. Even I can't help but be a little scared of what he's turning into."

"And that," Wolf declared, "is why you have us with you."

"Yep." The spy quickly regained his composure and grabbed two glass vials from a pouch on his waist, tossing them to Falcon. The soldier caught them in his palm and frowned. "I've heard that you're one of the best snipers that SAS has. Shooting bullets dipped in that poison means you don't even have to hit him with more than a glancing shot for the effect we need."

Falcon looked warily at the vials and shook his head in disgust. "I can't snipe at kids, no matter who they are, and especially not with poisoned bullets. I signed up to get this kid, Alex, back. Shooting him, with the possibility of missing and killing him, is crossing a line."

"You have to." The soldier visibly flinched as Fox hit him with a fierce glare. "I don't want him dead either, but if I can't get him back, those are my orders. Better dead then on the opposition. The poison will target his heart and shut it down. I have the antidote right here." He held up a pair of plastic encased needles. "The further it is from his heart when it hits, the longer it takes for the poison to work. Now any other shooter I would be worried about, but I've been informed by excellent sources that you are one of the best. If you back down, I will be sending someone less capable in your absence, thereby making it even more likely that Alex will be killed."

Falcon, who had never once had a nervous stutter in his life, found himself suddenly unable to say the words, "I'll do it." The idea still got across, and Fox nodded.

"Good. Eagle, from my time in K-Unit, you had the best luck with grenades." Eagle frowned but nodded. "My gadgetmaker has whipped up something specially suited to you." From the same pouch, he withdrew a plastic bag filled with what looked like metal marbles. As he handed them over, he explained to their recipient, "When these hit the ground with sufficient force, they leak a gas that reacts with the human body much like onions do. Your eyes tear up, and it burns the lungs a little when inhaled. I'll give everyone hospital masks to block out the majority of it, but mostly this is just to confuse and buy time for Falcon to line up his shot." He, very deliberately, met Falcon's eyes again before grabbing the next items from his small, and possibly endless, bag.

"Snake, I know how much you hate using guns despite your skill with them*. My gadgetmaker made this with that in mind." He revealed four shruikens, two in each of his palms. "I know you probably already have ones similar to these—" and he did, all three strapped on to his belt by magnets he'd embedded there "—but you might find these a bit more helpful." With a flick of Fox's hand, Snake saw one go low and the other high over his right shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at the display, but gasped as his right arm was suddenly yanked in front of him, pulling him forward to land face-first on the ground. The tension subsided when Fox put his throwing hand back down. Walking over to help the startled medic back up, the spy seemed to be brushing invisible threads off his arm.

"So, where'd the shruikens go?" he had to ask.

Fox opened his palms again, revealing all four of them where they had been before. "The ones right here?" He turned his hands upside down, and the shruikens dangled in the air half a foot below his hands. "Some of the strongest materials in the world are made from spider thread. This particular thread was woven with micro-metal strips twisted into it. Once you get the hang of it, having invisible strings are kind of fun." He wrapped the threads, that were somewhat visible from the corner of the eye once Snake looked harder at them, around the individual shruikens and handed them over to Snake.

Wolf crossed his arms. "Sorry to disappoint, but all I do is shoot. There isn't much to make that any fancier."

With a small grimace, Fox closed up his pouch. "I have to agree with you there, which is why you get something from my personal arsenal." The spy unclipped one of the two gun holsters slung around his waist and handed it to Wolf, who almost dropped it when the surprisingly heavy weight was dropped into his hand. "You'll need to wear these gloves with it as well," and a pair of thin cloth gloves were placed on top of the gun and holster. "Normally I'd use this myself, but you've actually trained, however briefly, with instinctive firing. I, luckily, never found the chance."

"What the hell does this shoot, Fox? I've seen smaller Desert Eagles!" Putting on the gloves, though he questioned why in hell you would need gloves to shoot a gun, he looked in the chamber, which only further confused him. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.

"This is the Raven**, the best, and probably only, multi-purpose handgun ever created. You can shoot damn near any ammunition that fits in a gun, from seventeen to fifty, and the metal casing can deflect bullets if you react fast enough."

"Why give this to me then?" Wolf asked curiously, admiring the make of the gun. "You shot pretty well yourself back at camp, and I can bet you've gotten better since then."

"Damn straight, but shooting ability isn't the point. The trigger mechanism is fingerprint sensitive and something Smithers implanted in the trigger detects tiny movements. If you even think about twitching your finger, the gun will automatically start firing."

He quickly withdrew his finger from its position near the ultra-sensitive trigger. "Fingerprint sensitive. So it only fires when a specific finger is on the trigger and can't be turned against its owner." Something bothered him about this. "The Raven was built for someone who'd become reliant on instinctive firing, which means it didn't originally belong to you." Fox grimaced again, and this time Wolf caught it for what it was. "Cub."

"Alex wore this constantly after Smithers, our gadgetmaker, gave it to him as a birthday present. When I searched for him in the Middle East, his gun was the only trace I could find of him. It was on the floor of the hotel he had been in last and was covered in blood. So much blood. All the bullets had been fired from it, and he must have used the gun itself as a weapon because I had to clean out bits of flesh and hair from all the crevices. I haven't let go of it since and had Smithers make me a pair of gloves that would let me use it." His attention was once more on fiddling with whatever else he had in the pouch at his waist.

"I'll treat it well, then. The kid will probably want it back."

Fox let a small smile grace his face before it melded into a frown. His eyebrows furrowed as he pressed the earbud further into his ear. "Mon dieu, c'est la merde," he swore, lapsing momentarily into French***. He turned back to K-Unit. "We might have our first casualty. One of my spies was just taken out of commission."

* * *

><p>AN: School is completely out for the summer, so just about every day, until I return to France and Germany for a month, will be filled with my twin and I typing ourselves to death on the six thousand stories we have planned out. Yay! If you get lucky, I might even get another chapter up within the next couple hours. Maybe… I also have driving lessons at some point. Grr. I'm going to need medication to keep my heart from exploding with stress.

Also, do I make Ben and Alex seem a little too much like brothers in here? I sort of imagine them as being family to each other, but then I always make Ben the overprotective older brother and Alex the reckless younger one. I never really noticed this until now.

*Yeah, I pulled this from my previous arc. Don't complain. I like the idea of having a variety of weapons, instead of the typical boring ones. Snake, as the medic, seemed the perfect candidate then and now.

**Ah hell, I just couldn't avoid using my modified gun in this one. It was just too damn perfect and I couldn't waste the opportunity for the Raven to make its second cameo. BTW, if someone were incredibly smart out there and had the means of making this gun…how much do you want?

***Recently corrected by the wonderful and oh-so-helpful _hollyblue2_. It translates into: "My god, this is shit." Thanks for the help! ^^


	4. Chapter 3

Part three of _End of the Road_.

* * *

><p>The assassin stepped over the prone body of an agent he'd found trailing him. She had been holding a GPS locator, likely instructed to tail him from a distance until the proper resources could be rummaged up to deal with him. Now, she wouldn't be an issue any longer. He thought about stepping on the small tracking device but decided against it. Her body would be found and serve as a warning to halt future attempts against him. Careful to make sure that none of his clothing trailed through the blood, he calmly strode from the confines of the dark, deserted alley to reemerge in broad daylight. The only question that remained in his mind was which way would be faster to get to the airport. He had a visitor to meet, after all, and lateness was considered quite rude by most.<p>

* * *

><p>Fox and K-Unit were at the location of the GPS signal within two minutes of Alex's departure from the same spot. Fox rushed over to the downed agent the second he saw the large puddle of blood beneath her head. "Dammit," he muttered, but still tested for her vitals as he colorfully swore under his breath. "Damn you Alex, you…" Fox frowned as he leaned back over the young agent to check for her pulse again, "you deceitful, brilliant spy." He turned back to a confused K-Unit with his own disbelieving expression. "She isn't dead. In fact, Agent Turner isn't even injured. She's sleeping."<p>

Snake, the unit's medic, knelt down beside him and carefully went back through all the motions that Fox had just done twice. "What the…? Then where did all of this blood come from?" Both of them searched for traces of any wound on the agent's body but came up negative. "The bump on the back of her head means he intended to just knock her out, but why dump blood on her to trick us into thinking otherwise?" Snake put his medical kit away as he asked, sure there would be no need for it here.

"I don't think it was _us_ he was trying to fool." Fox stood up, satisfied that the agent would have no lasting problems once she woke up. "I'd been confused when the coroner's report came back on the diplomat, because it said that he had been fatally poisoned before Alex ever slashed his throat. Which made no sense at the time the call came in. SCORPIA is known for the torturing of their victims before their deaths, so painlessly killing the diplomat before slicing his throat didn't exactly sound cold-blooded to me."

"What are you getting at?" Wolf asked, verbalizing what his entire unit was thinking.

"He never left MI6." Fox quickly pieced together everything he had, adding in his own guesses and assumptions. "Everything he's done has been to deceive SCORPIA. They must think they've turned him, or they're holding someone against him. I don't know. Whatever it is, he isn't doing this willingly but he can't get caught off-balance by either side."

Wolf crossed his arms. Solving logic problems and playing the spy game was not what he had signed up for. "Then we lay off?"

"No." Fox left the unconscious agent to one of her partners, who had been informed of the situation. "The plan doesn't change. Even if he is doing all he can, he's still SCORPIA's puppet and needs to be treated as such."

Eagle glared at his former teammate. "And risk his life because there's nothing else we can do?"

"He knew what he was getting into, and if our positions were switched, he would do the same for me. After all, better to die by the ally than live under the enemy."

K-Unit felt a collective shiver go through them that had nothing to do with the weather. Soldiers and spies had very different lives, but what Fox had said rang true for both jobs.

Fox had thought of something, and voiced it to the agent sitting with the one they had found. He nodded and told the unit the news. "Agent Smith is still on Alex's trail, albeit he's keeping quite the distance, and he's going to speak me through the directions. If this goes well, I think we can nab him. Falcon."

The sniper perked up. "Yeah?"

"Get in position in this building," he pointed to a spot on a map the other agent had handed over to him. "If I know him right, we can probably get him within reasonable range. Probably about here," another spot was indicated.

"Agent Mason." Turner's partner looked up at him, ready to move if he was ordered to. "I need you to get this area evacuated either out of the area or into nearby buildings. Call in a bomb threat, or something creative, but get the people off the streets for the next half hour." Agent Mason nodded, squatting back down by Agent Turner and calling back to headquarters for what Fox wanted.

"You have a plan for us?" Wolf, who had sat and listened to reports since his unit got stuck neck-deep in this mess Cub had made, wanted to get out and do something.

Fox gave him a wry smile. "I've got an idea."

* * *

><p>The alert was being sent across a small area on the suburbs of London by television and radio, warning the citizens of the potential leak of a dangerous chemical agent: phenyldichloroarsine*. Supposedly, the blister agent had been in the process of being transported to the Royal and General bank, for the process of upgrading their security systems, when one of the wheels was flattened by a rock or other miscellaneous object in the road. The truck had skewed off the road, clipping half a dozen trees before it finally crashed to a stop. In the process, the multiple protective layers encasing the gas had been pierced. Five minutes after the initial gas leak, a couple was hospitalized with the earliest symptoms, namely severe vomiting and extensive damage to both the eyes and throat. At that point, the reports were saying, that the alarms began to sound. They all said the same thing with regards to what you should do if you livedworked within a mile: evacuate the premises immediately.

Of course, all the necessary equipment would be set up within the next day. A delivery truck registered to a company that did work for the Royal and General would be at the crash site. A body belonging to one of their employees would be found dead in the driver's seat, killed on impact. Traces of the blister agent would have contaminated the entire inside of the truck and along the outside where the compartment had been breached. Two agents, actually engaged, would be in the emergency room with lungs damaged from previous exposure to the chemical. All tests would show that they had been exposed, because they had been. Just...not recently. It had been only two months ago that the couple had been caught in a high-security facility and set off alarms triggering its release. While they could no longer work in the field, they were happy to do the desk jobs and help out MI6 where the opportunities arose, as in this case.

But that would be later. For now, half an hour after the initial alarms were broadcast, Falcon was setting up his HK417 sniper rifle**, using binoculars to search for his target, and Eagle was readying the small metal smoke bombs in his hands, waiting for Fox's signal to be voiced over his handheld radio. Wolf and Snake sat in the back of Fox's car, watching as he flipped between the various cameras set around the area the agent was certain Alex would appear in. The small screen switched to a new street view every three seconds as he impatiently waited, ready to send the message to Eagle at a moment's notice.

In fact, he was watching so carefully for potential disguises that he almost missed it when Alex walked right past the third camera, completely stripped of all pretenses. Fox went back to the camera just as he came fully into view. It was undeniably Alex. "He's just about to pass you, Eagle."

"I've got a visual," he confirmed.

"Give it three minutes, Falcon, and he should be in range."

"Everything's ready over here. Which way should I be looking?" Fox's initial guess had been that he would be coming in from the eastern side, but that hadn't been confirmed yet.

"Still from the east, but moving further north as we speak."

Falcon shifted the aim on his rifle, pointing the sights further north by a couple degrees. "Got it. Just send him my way."

There was a pause for half a second before Fox said, "Eagle, it's your go."

* * *

><p>The moment he entered the area, the assassin felt a subtle change in the area. It wasn't so late or early in the day that no one would be out on the streets, yet not a soul was in sight. Only the wind created sound, rustling leaves and dust, for there was a definite absence in traffic of either the pedestrian or mechanical sort. He narrowed his eyes as a rush of suspicion overwhelmed him, but decided he might as well walk through. The only other way to the second target without going by this route would take two hours longer. Inconvenient and entirely unnecessary, he reminded himself. While he could think of no good reason for an entire town being vacant, he also didn't feel the need to detour for purely instinctual reasons.<p>

Ignoring his jangling nerves, he strode calmly into the town. Calmly, until he heard a sharp crack behind him. Whipping his head around, he received a face full of smoke.

He reacted immediately by dropping to the ground, leaving his bag by the sidewalk, and rolling out into the clean air. Another crack had him running blindly from the smoke grenades, eyes clamped shut to keep the smoke from burning them. The loud snaps of smoke released into the surrounding air had him twisting to avoid them as he tried to stay in the unclouded bubbles that were quickly disappearing. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly through the cotton of his jacket. The smoke was bad, but it could have been worse. They weren't trying to incapacitate him. The realization came to him quickly and he was instantly on high alert, stopping in his tracks. This was a cover for something else. But what?

"Alex?"

That voice…he recognized it from somewhere, from before his imprisonment. No one in SCORPIA had a voice that sounded as nice as this one. But that didn't matter. This was a cover for something else and he had to figure out what that something was. Getting to the second target was his highest priority.

The voice called his name again and he shut out the part of him that wanted to discover who it was. He squatted close to the ground, knowing that the smoke would be thinner down there, and cautiously opened his eyes. Nothing. The air was still too thick of the noxious smoke. But the smell it gave off to confuse the senses was strangely familiar. He almost thought that he remembered a room where it had been tested.

No, he had a mission to accomplish. Nothing would distract him.

Suddenly, the shifting footsteps stopped. Without the noise they provided, he couldn't locate where his three attackers were standing. Something was going to happen, and he wasn't going to be able to stop it. He stood to dash to another spot untainted by the smoke that seared at his lungs.

The silenced shot barely sliced his knee but he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him at the sudden flash of pain. It stung like a papercut—sharp and sudden—but quickly faded into the background as a tiny irksome throb. Glancing down at the line of blood it had left, he frowned at the odd way it had marked up his knee. A clear, slick substance marked the outside of his jeans just around the spot it had torn through. His eyes widened as he realized that the graze had been intentional. The bullet must have been coated in poison. He didn't have anything on him to remove it, and even if he had somehow been carrying the correct antidote, he was still caught in a precarious position.

Another voice was speaking from a hundred or so feet away, but he couldn't hear him clearly. Grabbing for the one thing he still had on him, he closed his eyes again and held the gun out in front of him, waiting for one of them to say something again. This time, he wouldn't be caught off-guard.

They had planned for everything.

At the soft clatter of a piece of gravel, he spun to his left and instinctively shot twice. Aiming for the first thing he heard, he hadn't realized that it was a decoy for _them_ to locate _him_. A sharp whistling sound and the Beretta flew from his hand seemingly by magic. He heard the sound a second time and ducked out of the way, only for his wrist to get caught in the invisible lines. "No," he gasped, eyes wide as he tried to get free and grabbing for the kukri that he had tucked back into his bag, only to remember that he had dropped it somewhere along the way here. Another whistle, and his arm was further entwined.

A third voice called out loudly, "I've got him!" and he heard the footsteps resume.

Feeling his heart thud loudly in his chest as the poison flooded his nerves, he cautiously felt around his arm. There, he thought, feeling the set of strings that twisted around his wrist. With a quick breath to steady himself, he flipped his wrist over and used his second arm to counterbalance the weight on the other side of the linking strings. He heard a sharp shout as he quickly jumped up to loosen the grip of the strings, flipping backwards as he landed gracefully on his feet to rid himself of their grasp entirely.

But the maneuver had cost him more than he intended and he found himself unable to breathe as he fell down to his knees. The smoke slowly dissipated, letting him see more clearly the face of his partner standing above him. "Ben," he gasped as the face triggered dormant memories, a small smile on his face. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, we'll have you fixed up in a second," Ben was reassuring him, but the teen was quickly shaking his head and still desperately trying to get back up.

"No, I need to get back out there. The diplomat, he isn't who you think. He needs to be stop—" He was cut off as he passed out, falling forward into his partner's open arms and laid gently on his back. Before the poison could hit his heart, Ben stabbed the antidote quickly into his chest. He pulled a second, smaller needle from his pouch and pricked it into Alex's neck. The first was to neutralize the toxin before it could cause lasting harm and the second to steady his vital signs, essentially putting him in an enforced sleep while the antidote worked.

While this was happening, Wolf was tending to Snake's arm, which had likely been fractured near the wrist when Alex had freed himself of the stringed shurikens. "It'll be fine," the medic was saying, waving him off as the splint was secured to keep the bones in place. "Nothing a week in a sling won't fix. Now let me get up to check on Alex. Falcon hit him over three minutes ago and I don't trust a couple milligrams of antidote to magically fix everything."

Eagle ran up, the plastic bag clutched in his right hand significantly emptied of the majority of its metal spheres. "How'd we do?"

Fox hoisted Alex up into a bridal carry, dismayed by how light his partner had gotten during his seven month absence. "We did well, but get the engine going. Do you know how to get to St. Dominics from here?"

* * *

><p>AN: That took a little longer than expected to finish, but admittedly, that's what happens when you type up multiple stories at once. My twin, Sekai, and I finally got around to posting stories on our shared account, _Takanami_. Basically, we threw out ideas about what would happen if you stuck these two 'verses together, or if two random characters met, and the hell that would follow for all the innocent bystanders. Heh. Fun times. Anyhow, posting might get a little strange (not that it was already…) added to the fact that I'm a temporary secretary tomorrow and the day after that.

So…yeah. Hope you liked the chapter. I actually divided this one in two parts and worked on the two viewpoints simultaneously. However, considering it is two in the morning as I'm finishing this, please help by pointing out the mistakes I've undoubtedly made. Time for bed. *yawn*

*PD, as NATO abbreviates it, is an organic arsenical vesicant and vomiting/incapacitating agent; therefore, one of six blister agents classified by NATO. Developed by Germany for use in chemical warfare during World War I, it has been decidedly less effective than other blister agents and relegated to use in security for banks and other high-security areas that can afford it. In most cases of exposure to PD, it damages the eyes, lungs, throat and nose, induces nausea and vomiting, and can cause both blindness and bone marrow damage with long-term, high dosage contact. Death can occur if treatment is not fast enough, but it is very rare. Basically, you don't screw around with this stuff lightly.

**Heckler and Koch medium range sniper rifle. Apparently, SAS has taken a liking to this new technology, along with Delta Force (American Special Ops), RENEA (Albanian counter-terrorism), ADF (Australian Defense Force) and others. It is only available to government and military organizations as of right now.


	5. Chapter 4

Part four of _End of the Road_.

* * *

><p>When Alex woke up, it was with the thought, 'Not this again.' He didn't hate hospitals. The pinch of the intravenous needle, the slick feel of plastic over his nose and mouth, and the incessant beeping of the monitors were all commonplace in his field. The feeling of being incapacitated, however, was not one he could easily get over.<p>

He turned his head to see Snake on the next bed over, testing out the new blue plaster cast wrapped around his wrist, lower hand, and part of his arm. Evidently, the medic was satisfied with how the doctors had fixed him up because he slipped it back into the cloth sling around his neck. It reminded him, with a surge of guilt, that he'd been the one to do that.

Pulling the oxygen mask to the side, slowly so as to not disturb any of the other wires attached to his chest beneath the hospital gown, he spoke as loudly as he could (which was barely above a whisper), "Sorry 'bout that."

Snake almost tumbled from his seat, twisting quickly around. "I didn't see you wake up. I should go get the doctor—"

Alex weakly grabbed at his shirt before he could get past. "Wait. I thought you guys were someone different. I panicked and you got injured. Just wanted to apologize for that."

"This little thing?" Snake relaxed as he chuckled. "I should be thanking you for breaking it correctly. This won't even take a month to heal back up because it snapped cleanly through one of the smaller bones. I've had worse."

"Still, I should have realized what Ben would do. If I'd been thinking clearly, this wouldn't have happened." He flinched as Snake ruffled his hair but forced himself to calm his hectic nerves. If the medic noticed, he didn't bring it up.

"No one blames you. Now let me grab Fox. He feels just as guilty as you do."

"You mean about the poison?" Alex frowned. "He shouldn't. I would have done the same, under the circumstances. If he hadn't, you wouldn't be the only one in the hospital. Ben knew what he was doing."

Snake repressed his urge to shiver at how easily the teenager had said that, and left to wave Fox in from the hallway. Fox, who had been in a constant state of turmoil since administering the two-part antidote, immediately relaxed as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"He's up?" Falcon asked, perking up. Not unlike Fox, he had winced even as he pressed the trigger and watched as his shot flew straight and true. He never missed and this had been no exception. So knowing that the kid had pulled through was an immense relief.

"Not only that, but he looks like he's ready to get out of here. Some kid," he sighed, sitting in the seat the spy had just vacated. "Who starts apologizing the minute they wake up?"

Wolf stopped his pacing to look curiously at the door. "Really?"

Snake nodded. "He didn't even care that his own partner had just poisoned him, insisting that he should have known who we were."

With a scowl at some invisible person, Wolf continued his circuitous route past the plastic chairs his team occupied. "What kind of kid would… This whole thing with SIS and SCORPIA feels like some kind of warped joke. Who would stick a kid into this sort of hell anyway?"

"The same government we work for," Snake replied quietly.

The hallway was thick with tension and silence as the four of them tossed Snake's words around in their minds. At least it was, until Fox yelled into the hallway from the hospital ward, "Wolf, Snake, give me a hand!" The two leapt up to help, Falcon and Eagle shot each other worried looks.

Fox was attempting to hold his partner down, while Alex was trying to get out of the bed. When he heard the door open, Fox gestured them over somewhat frantically. "I can't calm him down, and if he gets up, the stitches might tear."

"Wait, what stitches?" Snake asked, grabbing a sedative from the medical cabinet on the opposite side of the room.

"You have to let me up, Ben," Alex was arguing. "I need to get to the American diplomat."

"And do what?" Ben pressed down harder on his arms, forcing him back down to the bed while Snake injected the mild sedative into his IV. "If you can't even push me off of you, then what are you going to do when someone attacks you?"

"Doesn't matter. Another organization is planning to gun him down and pin the blame on SCORPIA. If I grab him before that happens, and the smoke you used messed with SCORPIA's cameras, then I can still finish doing my job." His struggles weakened as the drug hit his bloodstream but he refused to give up. "Dammit Ben, I didn't go through the last seven months to screw up now."

"Soon as the doctors finish putting you back together," Fox replied in a low soothing tone, "I'll let you get back to work. Two hours, max."

Alex's eyelids were feeling heavy, and the pillows felt so nice. He grabbed Ben's hand with all the strength he could muster. "Two hours. No more than that. Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

He was out cold before Fox got halfway through his sentence, and the spy neatened up the wires, which had been moved around in their small scuffle. He glared half-heartedly at Wolf. "You could've helped a little."

K-Unit's leader shrugged. "It seemed like it was under control. No need to get in the middle of things that are going well."

"Before I get interrupted again," Snake said, "_what stitches_?"

Fox winced, obviously hoping the words he hadn't thought through before blurting them out would have been forgotten. K-Unit's medic was not the sort to overlook the small things, to his downfall. "I hadn't realized it until the doctors had to put the sensors on his chest, but…the last seven months he didn't exactly spend in luxury. SCORPIA wanted their revenge, and they got it."

Eagle and Falcon had snuck into the room at some point and at Fox's words, they froze.

"What did they do to him?" Wolf asked apprehensively. Alex certainly hadn't moved stiffly and there had been no signs of a limp or other lasting injury. "He looked fine…up until we poisoned him, anyway."

"He…"

One of the younger medics, Dr. Reynolds as his nametag suggested he was, stepped into the room, not realizing what he had interrupted. K-Unit and Fox looked over at him, the four soldiers cursing his horrible timing. The doctor didn't seem to notice, "Daniels, sir," he said, recognizing the spy on sight, "Wilson wanted the patient's stitches covered with an extra layer. Somethin' about them needin' to hold together while he's mobile. Probably SIS again. You know how they are."

Evidently, Fox and the doctor knew something the rest of them didn't. "You need us to clear out then?"

"Nope. Just needin' some space to work, and one o' you to give me a little assistance. Nurse stuff. Doc's under the impression that I've got me two sets of hands."

"Flip him over?"

"Yeah, extensive damage I'm tellin' you. Wilson was just sayin' that if he hadn't been taped up right after whatever shit he got into this time, he'd probably have died o' bloodloss. Nasty device, those nine tails are. Hope the bastard who invented that thing got a taste of his own medicine, 'cause this just ain't right. Hell to fix up, too."

Fox's face had gone from pale to completely white during the doctor's easy explanation, but he nodded. "Snake, could you give him a hand?"

"Sure."

The whole conversation had passed entirely over K-Unit's head, and as Snake assisted the doctor, they voiced exactly that in hushed tones.

"He means to say that not only was Alex tortured, but that SCORPIA made sure to keep him alive the entire time. The cat o' nine tails is a whip consisting of nine individual strips." The spy looked vaguely green, as if he was going to be sick. "If I'd known…I could've gotten to him faster. I should have known…"

At this point, Eagle took pity on him and dragged Fox out to the hallway, Falcon trailing along with him.

Wolf folded his arms, his brows furrowed in worry for both spies. Damned SIS did everything for its country and nothing for its own people. He sat on the edge of the only other bed in the room, watching Dr. Reynolds and Snake bend over the teenager's prone form, and put his head in his hands. This was turning out to be a much more difficult mission that he had previously imagined. Running from gunfire and treading lightly through minefields were the hardest situations he had been able to think of when they were leaving camp, atop them the fear of losing a teammate.

Yet these MI6 agents, one not even legally to the age of adulthood, were willing to sacrifice anything to get the job done at the end of the day. Even if the price was paid in their own blood.

He found that these spies didn't sweat over promotions, potential injury or staying within the established protocols and laws. Ethics seemed to be over their heads entirely. The only thing that mattered was keeping their partner safe. That was why spies worked in teams, after all. It was why partners were important in any job. They kept you human, making sure you didn't deteriorate into a mindless robot. And in the business of espionage, there was a reason that they used people instead of machines.

With a shudder, Wolf stood up with the intent to grab coffee or something else with a hell of a lot of caffeine. Before he was completely off the bed, he saw Snake being waved off by the doctor. The army medic nodded and bolted from the room, his face as pale as Fox's. Well. That was something.

"Hey, you," the doctor said in his direction, making abrupt gestures with his head to get his attention, since his hands were full at the moment. "Stick on a pair of gloves and give me a hand. It doesn't look like my nurse is gonna be back anytime soon."

"Yeah? Why?" He was already grabbing a large pair of the purple latex free gloves from one of the cabinet's multiple drawers.

"Questions later. If your friend wants to be up in two hours, I'm gonna have a rushed job. Mind you I've done them before, it's just that I wanna do it with a lack of screwin' up involved in the process."

Wolf froze. "Wait. How did you know about the two hours? You weren't here when he said that."

"And here I thought you SAS guys were supposed to be top-o'-the-line." Dr. Reynolds looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and tiny smirk. Snorting, he shook his head and returned to the work. "You think SIS and MI5 would drop their agents off with just any doctors? Let me tell you, the MD was my fourth degree. This whole place is under constant surveillance. 'Specially after the incident last year."

He was going to ask about the incident the doctor was talking about, but then he caught sight of Alex's back, currently under repair. "Fuck," he swore. "What the _hell_ did those people do to him?" His skin was a patchwork of scars, both fresh and recently healed ones lined methodically over an older layer. Burns had seared sections of skin till they were almost black, and at some point the left side of his hip had been badly fractured.

The doctor was eerily unperturbed. "It's a bit horrible to look at the first time. Normally, it's the corpses that wind up like this. Not the livin'. But then, there's probably a reason for that. I'm just thankful they stitched and treated everything while he was there. If they hadn't, these would've all been infected and he woulda been stuck in rehab till the end of time. Now could you tilt his right shoulder closer to me? My eyesight's not as good as it used to be."

And that was how he spent the next ten minutes: making sure Dr. Reynolds could see the faint lines left by previous stitches and carefully handling the heavily bandaged teenager. Whenever he could, Wolf kept his eyes on the doctor's hands, instead of the skin they were sewing together.

Finally, the doctor was performing his final inspection, checking the skin for something he had missed. At a nod of his head, Wolf flipped the teenager gently on to his back, revealing his battered chest. While it wasn't half the horror that his back had been, the scars across his ribcage and stomach were longer and shallower. Yet none of them came anywhere close to the circular one above his heart. "They did that too?" he asked, but knew it had to have been older for the lines emanating from the scar to have faded from an angry red to the purplish-pink*.

"The bullet wound? Probably. That's what he was in here for year before last, anyway. Sniper, if I heard right."

"Then the incident…?"

"Oh no, that came later. He'd been here for a good week after they brought him in, rehab for the post-surgery stuff you know. Some thugs came for another patient and he tricked 'em into believin' it was him. Day later, he's back with minor burns and breathin' problems from smoke inhalation, covered in dust and grime from head to toe." He chuckled as he finished wrapping the gauze around a pair of two lines of stitching trailing down Alex's right knee and thigh. "The girls 'round here call him 'Bond', 'course most o' them don't know much more 'n the stuff the higher-ups feed everyone nowadays."

Wolf shook his head, glad he wasn't a psych major. He was fairly certain that his analysis of both doctor and spy would have been less than pleasant.

Dr. Reynolds plucked the gloves from his hand and tossed them into the trash bin by the door. "I gotta go see to another patient, but you should know that he's gonna heal up fine, despite any stunts he'll pull the second he's outta here. I've got those bandages on nice and tight."

Pulling his own latex-free gloves from his hands, he nodded. "Luck of the Devil, the kid has."

"That's one way to put it."

Fox must have received the details of Alex's wounds from Snake, because he burst through the door panting, "Is he all right?"

The good doctor's eyes hadn't caught up with his natural instincts, however, and before Fox had started the sentence, he had whipped out a long revolver seemingly out of thin air and aimed it at the spy's forehead. Before his finger had even touched the trigger, he pulled it back as quickly as he had brought it out. Both spy and soldier gave him a wary look, moving a half step back. "Sorry 'bout that," he sighed. "It's been a tense week and my nerves were all a fizzle." Almost absently, he spun the revolver once around his forefinger before slinging it back into a holster previously hidden underneath his white lab coat, just like in the old Westerns.

The spy laughed it off. "We're all the same. Twitchiness saves lives, and so long as it's not me you're shooting at, I don't mind so much."

"I'll leave you to your partner, then." As he touched the doorknob, Dr. Reynolds turned back around. "You have your gun on you?"

"Always."

"Good. I get a feeling when things ain't right, and my gut tells me that guns would be mighty handy right about now. Gut's never wrong, neither. That's how I got the nickname 'Mal'** back at the academy." He glanced over at the medicine cabinet again. "And, should you decide the patient's gettin' feisty on you, I replenished the store." And with that, he was out the door.

Alex was beginning to stir again as the door closed, and Fox and Wolf shared a look.

"He still has an hour and a half," the spy murmured, even though his partner probably couldn't hear them.

"And what he doesn't know couldn't hurt him," Wolf agreed whole-heartedly and just as quietly.

With a unanimous vote against him, Alex didn't notice as a stronger sedative was pumped into his system via the IV tube in the crook of his arm, sleeping soundly for a full hour. He also didn't hear K-Unit's decision to follow him into whatever mission he was intent on completing, nor did he feel Fox's hand ruffle through his hair.

Little did they know that Dr. 'Mal' Reynolds was very correct when he said that the worst was yet to come.

* * *

><p>AN: This was such a difficult chapter, as I hate doing mean things to my characters. Especially Alex, who I've grown a little attached to. But I managed. Somehow. The whole thing felt long and stupid, but I needed to have a chapter to connect the previous section and the next one. Sooo…I hope you liked it.

*Despite how weird this sounds, it really does happen that way. I have two lovely scars received from an incident a year and a half ago, and they've changed from an angry red, to pink, to the purplish-pink they are now. In another year, I've been told, they should fade to either a dull purplish-grey or brown (depending on the wound, how it heals, and how it is treated). And the tingling stops at some point. Supposedly.

**For the _Firefly_/_Serenity_ fans… **Have I dropped enough hints _yet_?** For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, watch _Firefly_ dammit. It's the best damn shiny show in the freakin' 'verse. River Tam agrees with me, too, so for the sake of your mind, you might want to find a copy. She can kill you with her brain. No, _seriously_. I think. But why take the chance? (BTW: Not meant to be some intro to a future crossover. This is pure AR.)


	6. Chapter 5

Part five of _End of the Road_.

* * *

><p>"Ow."<p>

Fox was startled awake by the softly muttered phrase, just now realizing that he had drifted off while sprawled across two of the hospital room's uncomfortable blue plastic chairs. "Wha—Alex?"

The teenage spy's head snapped up, a guilty look in his eyes. "Uh, go back to sleep. You're still asleep. This is all a dream."

With an eyebrow raised, Fox proclaimed, "I'm not _five_."

"I had to try," he countered, shrugging, and continued pulling the IV needle from his arm. When it was completely free, he stemmed the bleeding with a cotton ball and two band-aids. He deliberated briefly before grabbing the roll of gauze by his head and wrapping an extra layer around his left knee. It was only now that Fox realized he had avoided putting too much weight on it. Noticing where his partner's eyes were examining, Alex momentarily stopped his self-treatment to reply to the unsaid question hanging in the air between them. "Kneecapping. The bullet was removed, but my knee didn't fully heal." At that, he finished his makeshift attempt to immobilize the rigid joint. If Fox hadn't known better, he would have suggested that Alex use crutches. The kid would have scoffed and moved on.

Alex stood, albeit shakily at first with one hand still holding the bedside, and glanced around the room. "Where did my clothes go?" All he had on was the short, white, and almost see-through hospital gown, and he obviously was none too pleased about that fact.

"Corner cabinet, left side, middle drawer."

He was met with a grunt, the soft steps of feet in cotton socks, and the creak of plastic drawers. Another grunt, but this one in pain as he pulled a loose pair of dark jeans over the tightly wound bandages. Fox's eyes narrowed as he kept his sight on the opposite side of the room. "If I see anything start to bleed, I'm knocking you full of the strongest stuff on hand."

"No visible bleeding. Keep you away from medical cabinets. Got it."

Fox gritted his teeth. "You know that wasn't what I meant."

"Really? I must still be confused from all the sedatives. They get my words all mixed up."

Sighing, and wondering if all teenagers went through this phase, he said, "Let me get my jacket and call Wolf. K-Unit wants to go with."

Alex froze halfway to the door, his shirt hanging from one hand to put the bandaging and bullet scar in full view. "Really?" he asked, genuinely this time and surprise clear in his voice. "Why?"

"Well, they're under the sadly misplaced impression that if you have enough guns, everyone gets out just fine."

"And you didn't feel the need to correct them." The sarcastic teenage tone was back.

Fox laughed. "They're SAS. Brawn, not brains. Remember?"

"Heh. Yeah." He brought his voice down to a whisper. "I just don't want to be responsible for more casualties than necessary. We both know that Snake got lucky, and any full SCORPIA agent would be a hundred times worse."

"Some things override caution and logic, Alex. Camaraderie is one of them."

Alex huffed, knowing that this was one lecture he wasn't getting out of. "Fine, but they do exactly what I say. I planned for one person going in, but I guess backup wouldn't be a bad thing."

"Just an atypical one," Fox joked.

Ignoring his shirt for the moment, he searched the room for his backpack before realizing that he'd abandoned it on the street. "Did I have anything on me?"

"Yep." Fox gestured to the medicine cabinet. "Drawer above your clothes. I think there were two short blades, plus protective plastic sheaths, and a gun, couldn't tell the model."

"Beretta 92G-SD. I should've gotten one earlier, but Smithers' gave us such nice toys that I got spoiled." He attached the three holsters in plain view, not worried much about hiding his purpose at this point. "How fast can K-Unit get here? My schedule's tight with two hours lost."

"You kidding? They wouldn't _leave_." He sat up and crossed the room to open the door. "Hey, you guys ready to go?"

"Ready to go? _We're_ waiting for _you_!" Eagle shouted back.

"See?" Fox said, practically glowing.

Alex smiled. "You're right. Brawn, not brains." He began carefully pulling the first sleeve up as he followed his partner out the door. Before anyone could speak up, whether in comment about the heavy swaths of bandaging, him being up in general, or crack a joke, he said loudly, "Anyone attempts to drug me again, and I kick your ass."

"Yeah, sure," Wolf snorted. "I'd like to see that. Now where are we going? I want to kick some ass of my own, no more of all this sneaking around crap."

He ignored the 'subtle' glances Snake was sneaking at the fully visible scar above his heart as he pulled the second sleeve on, this one easier as SCORPIA had avoided damaging his preferred shooting arm. "Then I've got the perfect job for you."

* * *

><p>"Not like it really matters, but do you have a car?" Eagle was asking. He hadn't stopped talking since they left the hospital and, despite the directions Alex was voicing to Wolf, still engaged in a one-sided conversation with the teenager. However, this one he felt inclined to answer.<p>

"Why would I have a car when I don't have a driving license?"

"That…ah, that's a good point. Why _don't_ you have a driving license?"

He honestly hadn't even remembered that he still had to take the test. "I just turned seventeen* a couple months ago. I haven't gotten the chance to apply yet." All were suddenly reminded where he had spent the last seven months, and how.

"Right or left at the next light?" Wolf interrupted.

"Straight. Left at the light after that one."

Snake turned around in the passenger seat to glare at Eagle, who had resorted to prodding the back of his head. "Where are we going exactly?"

"The U.S. Embassy." Ignoring the questioning for a second, he glanced at the street signs. "Left here, Wolf." He regarded Snake again, "The American Ambassador to the UK, Thomas Bancroft**, was going to speak to the British Ambassador to the US, Sir Oliver Bryce***, and another foreign diplomat at eight tonight regarding how to proceed in Afghanistan. The location had to be changed yesterday, for unmentioned reasons, and the easiest place to meet was the embassy.

"SCORPIA discovered a double agent working for another group, trying to make extra while he was off-duty. The guy was going to be part of a plot to assassinate the American ambassador, and he was able to give them everything. SCORPIA didn't want to see themselves blamed for the shooting, but found a client who wanted to twist things to their favor. If the American was found killed by an agent of the British government, it would start all sorts of wars."

"And you were known to be working for MI6," Snake added.

"It wasn't known publically, but any agency I've done side jobs for would know who my primary employers were."

"Side jobs?" Falcon asked.

"Well…loans, more like it." Fox snorted and Alex glared at him. "It's one of those things you'd rather not know about."

Snake hushed all of them. "Back to the main topic here, why was the other guy killed? The one from this morning?"

If there was any regret about the murder in Alex, he didn't show it. "The Middle Eastern ambassador's death won't have any serious repercussions, as MI5's ongoing investigations will show that he wasn't the guy. The small terrorist group, based out of Afghanistan, sent a fake diplomat in place of the real one. He was going to be the one to shoot the US ambassador, hopefully causing further discord in the Middle East."

"Because we don't have enough problems there already," Wolf grumbled, keeping his eyes on the road.

"The attempt on the ambassador's life will be a few minutes before the meeting, even if SCORPIA has determined that I'm no longer working for them, because it needs to be ensured that he dies on British soil. If he's killed in the US Embassy, it won't have the effect they want."

"How do these people _get_ all this information?" Eagle asked, momentarily stopping his irritation of his fellow passengers. "No one can be _that_ thorough."

Alex's face darkened. "We shared a cell for the last couple of weeks. After that, he didn't need too much convincing."

Falcon whistled. "You lasted that long? I only learned the basics about them, but I'm impressed."

'_See how that works, Rider? You get just close enough to the nerves, but not too close to risk damaging or destroying them. You've got to think long term, you hear me? Keeps the show going longer. Chū xué zhě, you give it a try. Our friend here won't mind a few mistakes.'_

"You shouldn't be. I was under the tutelage of Dr. Three."

Fox's head whipped sharply around, eyes wide, to stare at his partner. "You _what_?"

"Please don't ask, Ben" he asked, almost pleading. "I'd prefer to forget."

'_Hear how shrill he gets when you cut like that? Not so deep to bleed so much, but that is the point. Leaves more to bleed later.'_

He pushed Dr. Three's words away as he directed Wolf down another street. "It's right over there, after the next right turn. Huge glass building. You can't miss it."

"And what exactly are we going to do?"

Alex bit his lower lip, chewing on it thoughtfully. "I hadn't really planned that far. We just have to make sure no one sees us, especially the two ambassadors. It would cause a huge uproar for either of them or their governments to learn that we are trying to thwart an attempt on one of their lives, much less on British soil."

Falcon let out a laugh. "We're supposed to pull of the feat of the century with no advance planning whatsoever and, oh yeah, make sure no cameras or people catch us in the act? Who do you think we are?"

Fox shrugged. "We do it daily. No complaining."

"The smart ones stick with SAS," Eagle confided not-so-quietly to the unit's newbie.

"The ones who think they're smart anyway," the spy returned under his breath, trading a smirk with Alex. "No, Eagle's right. If you want things like vacation days, holidays, decent pay—"

"Decent pay?" Alex interjected. "What was _your_ last paycheck?"

"What was _yours_?" he shot back.

The two exchanged whispers, Alex coming out seemingly victorious (whatever that meant, the other passengers worried).

"Skipping over the _decent pay_," Fox continued, glaring at the grinning Alex, "We do, however, have exotic working locations,—"

"So long as you don't mind the constant assassination attempts or backstabbing allies," his partner helpfully added.

"—great free insurance coverage,—"

"Because no one else gets in as many car, plane and motorcycle crashes, skiing and scuba diving incidents, gun fights and hospital visits as we pack in."

"—the best hotel rooms,—"

"I think you conveniently forgot Bangkok and Leningrad."

"and the chance to meet great people." He glared at Alex, daring him to add a remark.

The teenager shrugged at this, saying, "There are way too many things I could have listed right there." He turned to look at Falcon. "If you want employers you can trust—"

"And partners who don't mouth off," Fox smirked.

"—and a life expectancy of longer than two years—"

A fast nod of total agreement.

"—don't go into espionage."

"I hear MI6's spies' life spans have gone up recently," Snake spoke up, twisting around in his seat again.

"Yeah," Alex scoffed. "From who?"

"Someone I know in the techie section says there's someone with a hundred percent success rate who's been in the business for almost four years." He raised an eyebrow. "Anyone you know, or just the regular gossip?"

With a small blush, visible to everyone, Alex said, "He's probably new. That's impossible."

The spies shared a look, one that said everything, and totally confirmed Snake's informant's information, and Fox added, "Four years? Only techies last that long. Spies would burn out by that time."

"Completely."

"Yeah. Totally impossible."

"Unimaginable."

The SAS soldiers, minus Wolf, who was a good driver and kept his eyes on the road*, stared at the two of them.

Alex frowned back. "What?"

"That… That has to be the most obvious lie I have ever heard you say," Eagle said, and Falcon nodded his agreement.

"I have never seen a guy blush so deeply when he wasn't deeply intoxicated."

"Hey!" Eagle burst out.

"I do _not_ blush!" Alex loudly denied.

"So you've seriously worked with a hundred percent successes on _how_ many missions exactly?" Snake inquired, all information about the mission pushed to the side.

"It was only because I didn't get much downtime," he said, flushing bright red again to everyone's amusement.

"That's true," Fox nodded. "You still got work when I took breaks."

"It wasn't like I volunteered," he grumbled.

"I'd like a number," Snake pressed.

"I'm not counting!" the teenager protested, but his expression took on a thoughtful look. "Maybe…seventeen? It depends on what you're counting."

"What I'm counting?"

"Like…sometimes I went off on my own, or other agencies asked for help, or things just happened, you know."

"No, I don't know! What's wrong with you?"

Fox smirked. "Now you know what I deal with. Daily. But what's this about _'or things just happen'_?"

"You know," he said, somewhat uncomfortable talking about past missions. "Things just…_happen_. I'll be on vacation, something seems weird, I look into it, someone tries to kill me, I wind up on another mafia's hit list. That sort of thing."

Fox sighed into his fist, determined not to hit himself repeatedly on the head but struggling against negating the decision to do so. Snake looked like he was in a similar internal conflict, as was Eagle.

Falcon just raised an eyebrow. "This happens to you often?"

"Er, more often than the word _'coincidence'_ can cover."

The soldier snickered. "Your job sounds like fun."

"Completely," he said seriously enough. "I'm a regular James Bond."

This, of all things, perked Eagle up. "Really? Do you get to pick up the hot girls too?"

"…Sort of…" he said vaguely. "I mean, sometimes?"

"When you make it into a question like that," Snake sighed, "it means you likely don't have a clue."

"Hey, I haven't exactly had time for dating, what with all the recent attempts on my life."

"You do get a bonus on that," Fox nodded. "When you get targeted that many times, it means you get to call it an assassination attempt. Sounds cooler."

Alex nodded, and turned his attentions back on the mission. "Okay, it's right there. Park along the side of the street, but not too close. That attracts as much attention as parking next to the entrance. Plus, security cameras don't typically range this far out. Next to the corner, there."

"Backseat driver, much?"

"You haven't been on a motorcycle with him yet." Fox added. "Lots of fun."

"I'm going to kill you all later. In the meantime, could we please keep our heads where they should be?" He glared at the lot of them. "For those of you paying attention, instead of gossiping like a bunch of schoolgirls, how many guns do you have between us? I've only got one."

"One," Falcon offered, "but it's a long range rifle."

Eagle raised his own hand. "Just one, and a bunch of shiny new grenades I want to test out!"

"One." That was Snake. "If it helps, I've got the shruikens Fox gave me."

"Smithers," the teen spy grimaced. "Much too willing to help. Ben, you carrying?"

"Two, and if we're including miscellaneous stuff, then I've got a blowgun and darts too."

"Trying to hit all the clichés, Fox?" Wolf said to the spy. "And I've got the regular gun on. Holster and everything." He unlocked all the doors before a thought came to him. "Oh yeah, and I've got a rental out on another one. Think you might want it back."

Alex's eyes widened, quite dramatically, as he accepted the large gun. "The Raven! The last time I saw you was my gun battle in Azerbaijan!" He hugged it, like a boy a decade younger would a favorite teddy bear. "How'd you…"

"Your partner thought it'd be useful." The soldier said thoughtfully. "'Course, the recoil was absolutely horrendous. Thought I'd broken my arm for a second there."

"The agent who was sent by Blunt to locate you gave it back to me." He coughed into his hand, and Wolf rolled his hands. The message got across to Alex.

"Yeah. You must have had a long fun time getting all the blood out of that." He leaned back in his seat and put his fingers together in an oddly evil gesture. "Those bastards lost plenty of theirs before they got me.

"Now, Falcon. You mentioned a long range rifle, preferably the sniping sort you used on me this morning?"

"It's in the back, ammo and ever— Wait a second. How in hell did you know that?"

The teenager tilted his head to the side in a gesture that said, 'Really?' "You're not carrying, like the rest of your unit, and most units have at least one. Despite that you are one of the youngest in the group, Eagle the only one younger, you were employed in the armed forces first. Probably RAF**, since you had your vision corrected and don't seem the kind to mind glasses, thus you have great eyesight. While the RAF isn't exactly renowned for its snipers, it does maintain them in the RAF Regiment. On top of that, you hold your shoulder, the right one, like someone who broke it when they were my age or a little younger. Likely, your father or grandfather showed you the basics at a young age and at some point, early on, the recoil caught your shoulder wrong. Never does really heal back correctly, but it never causes lasting problems. Escapes most eyes actually."

"_You caught all of that_?" All the passengers in the car were gaping at him, minus Fox, who was mildly used to this by now.

"Well, not until we were getting in the car and you were putting on the seat belt. All I got at first glance were two obvious facts: Eagle is the grenade master, and Wolf and Ben were both on the scene immediately after I got shot, leaving you. And you have all the obvious calluses on your right hand, which I happen to know to be your main hand." Falcon still looked unconvinced, so he added, "I trained with SCORPIA twice. I should know what to look for in a sniper."

"I'm not going to ask, and just go with it," he said, giving up. "What was it you were going to ask me to do before you blew me away just there with your skill?"

"Nothing much, but it would be awfully nice of you to sit in that empty apartment right over there," he said, pointing to a spot a good ways back, "and make sure no one sneaks up on us."

"And, I'm guessing I should probably do some shooting if that happens."

"Not with the regular stuff, or whatever Smithers gave Ben to give to you." He eyed his fellow spy before pulling out an old-fashioned film canister. "Make sure you don't expose them to light."

"Are they vampire bullets? Turn to dust or glitter glue*** in the sun?"

"Not really, but the cylinder it's in dissolves under the right conditions; namely, sunny areas. So don't open it up here to take a peek. They'll be really small, and never seem like something to stick in a rifle, but believe me when I tell you they work fine in just about anything. Except revolvers. That's just not pretty."

"More specialty stuff?" Eagle spoke up. "You guys get all the good stuff. Will this stick him in a coma for exactly seventeen minutes or turn his hair blue and light him on fire?"

"That would be so cool, but no. The poison mimics a heart attack, with survival on the small chance that you get off a shot too far from a convenient artery. Then it melts into the bloodstream. Voila, no more poison."

"Very nice. I'll have to meet this Smithers of yours."

He coughed into his fist, looking away, before saying, "Uh, normally I'd pass it on to him, but this wasn't exactly his. It was a different, and uh hopefully no longer current, colleague."

"I'm going to hear more about this later, Alex?" Ben didn't look particularly pleased, and the young spy less so.

But the kid managed to crack a smile. "Oh don't worry. She wasn't nearly as cute as you."

Eagle nearly fell out of his seat laughing, Falcon might have fallen on top of him if he hadn't been firmly held in place by his seat belt, and Snake was turning red. Wolf just leaned back and said with a straight voice, "I'm so proud of you. Finally got out of the closet."

"All of you. Are. Dead." He turned to Alex. "You."

"Can't you see why we're so very much in love, Wolf?"

The elder spy gritted his teeth. "You keep this up, and there's going to be a killing spree on your hands."

[I would put an inappropriate joke here, but this is only rated T…I think… So. Imagine one and insert it here. And then laugh. Because it should be funny.]

* * *

><p>Much throttling later:<p>

"Much as I enjoy listening to couples bicker," Falcon butted in, "I've got a long walk to make if Wolf doesn't hand over the keys."

"I'd start walking now," Snake suggested. "This lovers' feud could last awhile."

* * *

><p>AN: I must be the single sickliest person on the planet (minus those with immunodeficiency issues, like cancer and HIV/AIDS). Within the past year, I have logged more hours in the hospital than any other person I know, _including the two women who just gave birth_. Over four weeks of total days! I have something, that's literally all I know, that sucks. It's not quite pneumonia, or sinusitis, or allergies, or the flu, but **a mix of all the symptoms**. I'm just glad that school is out.

I've been sleeping for over twenty hours nearly every day for the past two weeks. Just yesterday I missed both lunch and dinner because my grandparents couldn't get me up. This makes it difficult to update. Duh. Thanks for hanging with me, and as my next round of drugs comes in from the pharmacy, I should (_should_) be able to find more time to type. If I don't feel like crap. And if this recent thunderstorm doesn't knock out the electricity.

Again, thanks a ton for the reviews, which are just like get-well cards and lift my spirits. I'm so busy, and so very tired, but the reviews and smiley faces make it so worth my time! ^^ I love you guys so much!

*Alright, a driver's license in the US is roughly 16 (to drive alone, any vehicle). In the UK, the age for driving licenses is 17 for cars and most motorcycles, 16 for mopeds. I have no clue about driver's/driving permits, so don't ask. I just got my permit, and thus still have no idea as to what that even means. :P

**Once again, to ignore current events and all the political mishmash in both the UK and US, I have made up a name. There was a George Bancroft, but the only relation my fictional ambassador has with him is that they share the same last name (because it sounds so old-fashioned and totally cool. ^^ Kudos to him.) So no complaints. Please. I hate politics with a vengeance for the same reasoning as I hate it when people bring up religion. It starts disputes and should be a personal thing. Anything I bring up in here is for the sole purpose of creating a plot line. I don't even live in the UK, so how should I know what's going on? (Okay I listen to CSPAN and CNN, geek that I am, but that's it.)

***Same as above. The names Oliver and Bryce came from close friends and relatives of my sister and me, not from any recent ambassadors. I have no idea about relations between the UK and US, except that they haven't been at war recently. So…I'm presuming , my dad works in the UK. ^^

*Teenage driver (who just got her learner's permit in the mail today XD) here. I have to believe, despite the obvious walking contradictions who surround me (I'm looking at you, Mom and Grandfather!), that everyone drives carefully and defensively. Heh. I'm so naïve.

**Royal Air Force. BTW, any air force (no matter the country) requires 20/20 vision. At least, all the ones I know of (and I know a lot of 'em).

***Heh. Glitter glue. Twilight joke. Get it? They sparkle? Glitter glue? Yeah, I should get a show. I know.


	7. Chapter 6

Part six of _End of the Road_. Sorry for the hiatus, but as I mentioned earlier, I was with my grandparents, cousins and twins on an excursion through Western Europe. Tons of fun. We took a cruise through Germany and Luxembourg, a walking tour in Belgium (wish it had been longer) and spent a week in France. I would have taken my laptop to continue typing if I could have. For hundreds of reasons, I was convinced otherwise. Everything for this chapter was written out on a dozen scraps of paper, some borrowed notebook sheets, and, when I finally ran out on the plane rides back, my hands and arms. Those flights can get very boring. But you don't want explanations. On to the story! :D

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><p>As expected SCORPIA had sent a backup team. Their purpose wasn't to assist Alex, should he encounter resistance or trouble he couldn't handle on his own; quite the contrary. They were there to either make certain he completed the assignment, or, if he was unable or unwilling, to finish his job themselves with the swiftest efficiency.<p>

While Alex didn't know what details the team had been given, he could hazard a reasonable guess as to where they would be located the hour prior.

K-Unit, Ben and Alex were sitting in a small restaurant with an undisturbed view of the embassy from their window seats. The teenage spy was drawing out the floor plans of three different buildings on the backs of the restaurant's napkins while explaining in hushed tones what the SCORPIA operatives would likely be doing. "They never canvass just one vantage point; no single location is capable of overlooking absolutely, even at the very top. Those two buildings," he said, pointing at the locations through the glass, "have their windows practically bolted shut, and on top of that, they're bulletproof. The bank across from them was afraid of someone sniping from there, and made sure it couldn't be done. Too many alarms. Not practical for a quick job. The bank itself and the hotel two buildings to the left of that both have incredible amounts invested in their security systems.

"That leaves these three buildings." The completed blueprints, done in blue and green crayon to K-Unit's amusement, were turned around for them to analyze. "Now the one in the middle," he scooted the set of napkins with the building's sketches to the front, "is useless to them. The viewpoints of the two on either side offer much broader coverage and would allow for two sets of two-man teams." Alex removed a yellow crayon from the box he had requested of the waitress upon their arrival in the restaurant. "They won't be on the roof, top floor or bottom floor. Without knowing what guns they took, I can't determine an exact location."

Falcon took that as an end to the explanations. "Where do I go?"

"The middle building," he answered, "right here." With the yellow crayon, he marked a specific spot.

"On the top floor?"

"Yep. If it makes the shot too difficult on your rifle, much as I doubt it, there will be another one hidden in the floor beneath the four tiles that look more yellow than white. Hard to miss." At their questioning looks, he added, "This isn't the first time I've come back to London. MI5 just doesn't keep as close an eye on the passenger logs as they used to. Especially those small passenger planes traveling relatively short distances.'

Fox pinched the base of his nose. "I sense an upcoming lecture on seeing through disguises."

"Oh you have no idea. I've had all the time in the world to plan my next classes, and there will be no end to the surprise field tests."

The spy groaned, but made a rolling gesture with one hand. "What do the rest of us get to do?"

Dropping the crayon by its boxmates, he steepled his fingers in front of his face. "The main priority is to get the American safely to his embassy's grounds. Once there, he will be out of danger. The SCORPIA team won't be able to touch him, as per orders. As he leaves for his flight out, MI6 and MI5 will doubtlessly be taking more precautions once they catch on, especially if I show them all the flaws I found in the security they maintain there. He'll be safe at that point.

"Until then, we have just under an hour to take out the four SCORPIA agents in the area. Our advantage is that they will have minimal attention on what's happening in their own buildings. One will be on guard to ensure the floor is clear, but past that, it's a straight shot."

"You make it sound really easy when you put it that way," Wolf said dubiously.

"Did I forget to say that all of their agents will be heavily armed, including the one sniping? And that they have to be taken out simultaneously?"

K-Unit grimaced, and Eagle dropped his head to the table with an audible thud. The unit leader sighed. "Why simultaneously?"

"The teams stay in constant contact. If one team is taken by surprise, the second will be prepared. SCORPIA favors the survival of the individual over that of the whole. If things get done, it doesn't matter how many agents get back."

Snake leaned back in his seat, resting it on two legs like your parents tell you not to. "Well this puts a wrench in things."

"Not particularly." Alex turned to Fox, who sat next to him. The spy was the only one fully comfortable sitting too close to the teen. "Pop quiz. How do you react in this scenario?"

It took a few seconds for Fox to realize he was serious. "Uh, you take two teams with radio coordination to take out the teams at the same time."

"I give you half-credit for the textbook solution, but you need more details, especially when the other side has the same amount of people, greater firepower, and an undetermined location. And where are these radios you speak of?"

Fox flushed as Alex raised an eyebrow, twirling the blue crayon absently. Wolf put his elbows on the table, and Eagle tilted his head up to better see the scene. "You have a better idea?" K-Unit's leader had agreed fully with the straightforward plan. Then again, there was a distinct difference between spies' work and soldiers'.

"Give me a second. Unless the rest of you are secretly five foot nine and skinny enough to crawl through the vents, my usual methods won't work. I'm not used to doing this with large groups." Before anyone could interject, he softly thumped a hand on the plastic table. "Ben, has Smithers given you a vehicle recently?"

"Yeah, the 2011 Audi A4. Why?"

"How long ago?"

"Just a couple of weeks ago. The last one was totaled in Paris while I was working. Is that important?" He didn't see the importance of the timeframe, but Alex did.

"Sort of." The teenager absently fiddled with the paper wrapping around the blue crayon. "Smithers, the gadgetmaker for MI6, MI5 and sometimes the CIA when they ask nicely, likes to equip anything he can with as many gadgets as possible." This was for K-Unit's benefit. "Only within the past year, he started working on vehicle designs that would be compatible with the usual benefits as well as heat-seeking missiles. The last time we spoke, he was modifying the AGM-114J Hellfire II*."

"He what?" Fox had, by his flat tone and unbelieving expression, never been informed.

"I need to meet this guy at some point," Wolf muttered in an aside, and more loudly, "You want to use the workings in the heat-seeker to locate the teams?"

"Exactly. From there, I would then enter through the…" he looked to Fox.

"Roof," the spy huffed.

"The textbook wins points there," he pointed out, "but where _exactly_?"

"The opposite side that the heat signatures are on." By their easy bicker, Alex's constant tests had been common up until he went MIA.

"Very good. You win back points. Instead of Ben's proposed radios, you all have cell phones. Use two of them to call each other beforehand and leave them on speakerphone until all's clear. It runs up the bill and drains the battery, but works just as well." He leaned forward on his loosely bandaged left arm to examine the entry points on the napkins and one of the crayons left a blue streak across his cheek. "Oh, and I'll need someone's phone. Talia probably bugged mine when she brought me the tool set." He didn't notice the slip even when he saw Fox staring as Eagle unclipped his cell and tossed it across the table. "What?"

The spy shook his head wearily. "Nothing." This would come up later. Now wasn't the time. "While we take out the agents, what are you doing?"

"Exactly what SCORPIA thinks I should be doing. Pretending to assassinate the American. I was going to show up at the airport and get the work done early, but they shouldn't mind the location change as long they don't realize you caught up with me."

Wolf took on a skeptical expression. No one else had seen the picture that Fox had handed him, except the spy himself, and he still had those cold eyes seared into his memory. Whether it was MI6 or SCORPIA who had made them was still up for grabs, but those eyes hadn't changed. They had iced over into a similar image as he laid out the plans and drew the blueprints. The question remained as to who the teenager owed his loyalties to.

K-Unit's commander changed his mind, and his doubt melted away, as Fox tried to wipe the smudge from Alex's cheek. The teenager swatted his hand away, but laughed as his partner attacked again with a wet unused napkin from the table behind them. Even if SCORPIA had managed to turn him into a double agent, the kid could never turn against Ben Daniels.

"Quit that! I don't need a mother!"

"It could break your cover," Fox retorted in all seriousness.

"I'm sure, now give me that. I can do it myself."

"You're making a scene, Alex."

The teenager swiped at the spy's hand again. "Whatever. You and K-Unit have forty-three minutes, if the clock on the wall is right." He snatched the napkin from Fox's hand and rubbed at the mark.

Falcon had already jumped up from his seat, grabbing the crayon sketch of his designated building as he did, and started out the door. Wolf paired Eagle and Fox together, handing them two of the napkins for their building. Fox and Wolf switched on their phones to establish the connection. "I'll give you the location for your building as soon as we get back to my car," Fox told Snake and Wolf as they grabbed their own stuff, twisting back around to frown at Alex. "And we will be having a lengthy discussion later about Three and the other things you haven't mentioned."

The teenager ignored the remark sent his way and continued stare at a crack in the ceiling above him.

Fox sighed but left without another word, Eagle following him out, whistling irritatingly as he did.

With the hand not stuck in a sling, Snake grabbed Alex's wrist. A panicked expression immediately crossed the teenage spy's face, eyes widening in fear and muscles tensing to run, before he forcefully relaxed. "Please warn me next time you do that," he whispered as calmly as he could manage, unsure if he could be heard over the sound of his racing heart.

Snake's attention was somewhere else and the quiet words were lost on him. "I don't want to see or hear of you pulling any stunts out there while in this condition," the medic said, displeasure bleeding into his voice. "If it were my choice, you would still be sedated."

Alex sighed, but nodded. "They really don't hurt all that much."

"When you can say that with a straight face, I'll take you seriously. As soon as this matter gets straightened out, you are getting started on rehab for that knee. Walking on it only makes it worse. The limp is getting more and more noticeable as you go."

The teenager opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it at the last second. "You think it can be repaired?"

"It might require a couple surgeries to replace the kneecap and surrounding area. Following that you'd have, at most, a year of rehab. After that, it should at least dull the pain down to a healthy amount if not make it more usable."

"That sounds like something to look forward to," he replied, stretching out the aforementioned limb to shake out the pins and needles feeling that accumulated after sitting for too long in a weird position. "Ben should give you the locations any time n—"

Fox chose just that moment to tell Wolf that he had the positions. The man shook his head, but lifted the phone up to hear better and started marking the spots with Alex's yellow crayon.

"We have forty minutes if the American ambassador is on time," Alex told Snake, who nodded. "I'll look suspicious and keep their attention sur moi. There weren't any cameras left that I didn't time to be on loops for the next couple hours. You _are_ using silencers, right?"

"Why would—" The medic chuckled and shook his head. "I forgot. Don't attract attention. That's going to take some getting used to."

"You do have a silencer on you, I hope?"

"It's standard to have one issued per handgun, and it was just luck that we kept them on hand. I know I have never once used mine."

Alex nodded his head towards the soldier talking quietly to Fox, yellow crayon in hand and scribbling quickly along the rim of the napkins as he wrote down the specific locations. "Wolf can show you the ropes if you've forgotten. X-Unit uses them often enough in Kandahar."

Despite his ongoing conversation, he spluttered as the teenager mentioned his previous, and very recent, assignment in Afghanistan. "How the _hell_ did you know _that_?"

"Besides it being completely obvious?" Wolf's glare demanded elaboration. "Fine. The devil's in the details. First, there aren't many other places you could've been. For Ben to have the means to communicate with you so quickly, you had to be at good old Brecon Beacons either getting ready to be shipped out or just returning. Second, your hair has been cut shorter than anyone else in your unit, but all of you were at BB at the same time. Thus, they probably had units lacking in numbers, which isn't surprising given the high casualty rates in the Middle East right now, especially just those counted in SAS. Third, you were in a forward unit, one doing mostly info gathering and calculated, predetermined shootings, based on the wear of your clothes, the lack of wear and dust on your boots, the lack of sun that you appear to have gotten, and a couple other small things. The only forward units are the last three: X,Y and Z.

"Then I added in other facts, such as the one that Y-Unit is nowhere near the Middle East. MI5 is utilizing them for their specialty—night work—for a routine and purely curiosity-sparked job in northern China. While I have no idea what Z-Unit is up to, I can add in the fact that X-Unit lost one of their guys in an exchange of fire four months back. A week later, their unit commander for the area sent in a request for a guy to fill the position until they could get someone in permanently. So, I naturally assumed that you had been in Kandahar with X-Unit until recently. Occam's Razor** pretty much covers that much." He tipped back the rest of his Coca-Cola bottle, drained it, and walked over to toss it in the trash can before sitting back in his seat to stare down the two gaping soldiers.

Snake copied Eagle's previous gesture, thumping his head down on his folded arms. "I give up. If there's an omnipresent force in the universe, you've got to be it."

"Wait a second," Wolf demanded, waving his hands in front of him as if that could clear everything up. "How did you know what MI5 was doing when you were…uh…" He faltered on the last couple words.

"Being tortured?" Alex offered.

"He was trying to pronounce 'incapacitated,'" Snake helpfully explained, his voice slightly muffled with his face being in such close proximity of the table.

Wolf was not feeling grateful. "Shut up, Snake."

"To answer," the teenager spoke up, "I just listened in to a lot of conversations and supposedly secure radio signals. For some reason, they never think you're listening once you stop screaming." He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, staring pensively at some distant horizon***.

"You have issues, kid," the soldier snorted.

"More than you realize. And you have thirty-seven minutes." The 'kid' never missed a beat.

"Damn." The two SAS soldiers grabbed their equipment, along with the napkin-diagrams marked in crayon locations. Before Wolf had grabbed the doorknob, Snake whipped back around to point a finger at Alex.

"Any stunts and you will be in that hospital longer than you have been _alive_."

"He's serious, too."

Alex swore under his breath, "medics," but as the duo left the small Indian restaurant****, he felt a small twinge of happiness that had been a long time in coming.

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><p>AN: Don't kill me for the lack of action in here! While I was in Europe, I scribbled down one block of writing, taking no heed to chapters, line breaks and sometimes ignored paragraphs. Sooooo…I had intended to put action in here, but by this point, I'm already up to a solid three thousand words. Worry not. The next chapter is nothing but action. It should also be up soon, seeing as I still have a lot of pages of scribbling left to transcribe to my laptop. . Scary.

*Hellfire missiles are "fire-and-forget", meaning they are heat-seekers. Great in combat, they can be fired just about anywhere and their rocket motors have long lives. Built in the 80s, they've been used in combat since then (admittedly with lots of mods over the years). The model I named never got off the ground, along with the AGM-114H; the AGM-114K was by far the preference, so the two (three, if you count the -114G) were never used.

**Occam/Ockham's Razor — Everything in nature tends towards simplicity, and the fewer assumptions you have to put into your hypothesis to make it work, the more likely your hypothesis is correct. This is sometimes incorrectly stated as "The simplest explanation is most likely the correct one." That statement has truth to it, but can be misleading. Search it on .org if you need a better description.

***If I could post my cousin's pose here, you would totally understand. He should, by all rights, have the pose copyrighted. I would support it.

****Because what other restaurants _are_ there in England? Apparently, Italian ones.


	8. Chapter 7

Part seven of _End of the Road_. This is the chapter where I dumped all the action. Hope you like. And just remember… Tsuki looooooves reviews. XD

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><p>As he heard the tiny gears click, Fox withdrew the set of lockpicking tools and returned them to the abysmal pouch of convenience. Eagle stepped forward to wrench open the rusted rooftop door, gun poised in front of him and the pocket flashlight braced beneath it. Behind him, the spy held Alex's crayoned blueprints carefully in his left hand.<p>

Once it had been determined where the two locations were, the one in their building was marked with an 'X'. Well, after they spent three minutes trying to find something to mark it with. A pencil was finally located beneath one of the car seats.

From there, it was relatively simple to find the fire escape—you couldn't miss it. Fox had no clue as to how the building had ever stood up to fire codes. The set of ladders they intended to scale were rickety, rusted over, and pieces of it had fallen off, or still dangled down, connected only tentatively by one or two well-built screws. Eagle flipped a coin to determine which of them would ascend the death trap first, which dissolved into a subsequent girly fight once Fox realized that the soldier was using one of Falcon's same-sided trick coins. Fox, as the only one of the pair that could disable alarm systems and break into locked doors, both of which they were bound to encounter at some point, was finally persuaded to go first.

To their immense relief, only two lengths of railing, a section of metal that Fox had stepped too hard on, and a handful and a half of screws disengaged from the contraption never intended for human traffic. When they stepped quickly off the last ladder and on to the roof, Fox let out a sigh of intense joy at not dying, and Eagle kissed the steady ground on which they stood.

Through the steel door, down a short flight of steps to the top floor, and, following Alex's map, back to the elevator and stair doors. Stopping in front of the stairs, Fox took both the gun from his holster and Eagle's and removed a pair of silencers from a loop on his belt. Fitting a modified one on his Ruger SR9c, he frowned at Eagle's standard Walther*. "You have this threaded?"

"Course I did, even if it's never been useful up until now."

The spy rolled his eyes, but screwed the silencer to the gun and handed it back. "Please tell me if you're about to start throwing those marbles. I have no desire to get a face full of gas without advance warning."

Eagle leaned back against the wall, taking up a thoughtful expression. "I could use some kind of code phrase, like 'cannonball!'"

While he pried the elevator doors open with a thin piece of metal and his fingers, Fox shook his head. "Earth to Eagle. Earth to Eagle. Let's get moving."

"What are you opening the elevator up for, then? I don't think there's been electricity here for quite awhile."

"Yes, but anyone with a brain would be watching the stairs and I didn't plan on scaling down the building."

"So…elevator shaft?"

"Elevator shaft. We rappel down."

Eagle slapped a hand over his face. "I thought everyone had voted me 'likeliest to be committed,' but I might have met my match. Where the hell do you spy-types get all these insane ideas?"

"I don't know about my compatriots," he grunted, holding one of the doors open as he reached inside the shaft to connect a long cord wrapped around his waist with a red clip to an iron bar above the entrance, Eagle grabbing his other hand to make sure he didn't fall headfirst down the opening on accident, "but I'd say that at least half comes from the Bond movies, mostly the newer ones with all the cool cars and explosions, and the rest are inspired by Al. Given half a chance, though, I'm under the impression that he isn't the only teenager that would think of testing out some stupid stunts."

"Okay, now explain to me how we pull this off?"

"First I need you to attach this to your belt."

"Why?"

"Sometimes it doesn't go like it's supposed to, and if you don't want to die, you might want to attach this to your belt."

"Maybe I could just risk the stairs."

[Three minutes later…]

"I am _not_ doing that ever again."

Fox smirked at the soldier, who was developing a bad habit of kissing the ground. "You'll say that two or three more times," he said knowingly, "before it becomes common knowledge that eight months from now, you'll be doing that again. Except the building will be on fire. And you'll be carting down unconscious civilians to the firemen thirty floors down."

"I love my job," Eagle groaned. "It's so easy. Just point and shoot. No morals to cross-examine. And my fingers won't be bleeding."

"That barely qualifies as a papercut."

"But there are nine of them!"

"If you hadn't put your hands out to slow us down, like I specifically told you not to, that wouldn't have happened."

"…I must have missed that part. Where are we going again?"

"Give me a second." He pulled their makeshift maps from his side pocket and handed them to Eagle, hitting his flashlight against his leg to make it turn on. Added with the thin shafts of light that managed to pierce the layers of dust and grime on the windows, the soldier confidently stated (after turning one of the napkins upside down and the other ninety degrees to the left) that the room was one hallway over and three doors down**.

Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, as if asking for divine assistance, Fox made the gesture to be quiet—ring finger in front of the mouth—and pointed down two hallways bisecting the one they had been walking down, adding more hand motions to say what the plan was.

Eagle nodded his understanding, taking off stealthily down the hall to their left, exaggerating all his movements like the actors in old spy movies and even doing a dramatized roll, coming back up with a serious face and his gun held straight in front of him.

The spy bit back a smile, muttering under his breath, "Brawn, not brains," and ghosted through the corridor in front of him. At the next corner, he checked the amount of bullets left in his mostly unused cartridge and pressed flat against the wall. Waiting for the right moment, the clink of metal against metal signaled the two second warning. Eagle's mini smoke grenades would go off in five seconds exactly. He drew in a steadying breath, releasing it as he rushed out and kicked open the unlocked door with the heel of his right foot, ready to shoot at the first thing that moved.

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><p>Wolf and Snake decided on a more direct route. While neither of them had Fox or Alex's lockpicking skills, Wolf had kicked down enough doors to be incredibly proficient. Sure, it was common knowledge that you hit the wood beside the lock to get the best results, but not many could put the sheer force that K-Unit's commander had behind their kicks. Few of the doors, besides the back door, had been locked anyway, so their method worked sufficiently well.<p>

Using the reverse psychology of Fox's reasoning, Snake figured that SCORPIA wouldn't bother to bug the stairwell or elevator, because they assumed that anyone coming after them would suspect them to do just that. Once it was determined that the electricity had not yet been shut down to this recently closed building when Wolf accidentally flicked a light switch on, the pair decided almost immediately to take the elevator. No way in hell were they trudging up nine flights of stairs when a faster way was available.

As the elevator doors slid open nine floors later, both soldiers had their guns aimed at eye-level.

Nothing.

Snake glanced down at the two napkins taped to his casted left arm. The sling was thin enough that it didn't block out the most important markings. When Wolf pointed his gun to the left, the medic nodded. At the next intersection, he checked the drawings before pointing to a specific room.

The building was, or had been, an apartment complex. The reason for its current state—namely, empty—was the result of a few damaging dents in its main water line. When the pipe had finally burst, it had nearly flooded the entire third floor. The other levels had been damaged less severely, but enough to call for the vacation of its residents. Until the rest of the pipes were inspected, the main line fixed, and the building treated with new carpets and the like, it would remain unoccupied.

It was for this very reason that their combat boots squelched every time they shifted positions, much less moved, on the still-soggy carpeting. The soldiers exchanged a 'here goes the surprise attack' glance and ceased all attempts at being unheard.

Wolf kicked open the former-apartment door, taken completely by surprise when he had his gun ready to start firing and no one was there to enjoy being used as target practice. Snake lowered his own as the he holstered his. Despite the apparent lack of danger, they kept their voices down. "Anything?"

"Zip."

The medic stepped past him to examine the room. Two generators had been set up and plugged in to replicate human-like heat signatures. One had been laid flat over a table facing the window, made to resemble a sniping position. Another was propped up in a chair by the door. Other mechanics filled the room, intended to fool a wide array of machines.

"Alex said there would be four of them," Snake said, attempting to figure out what they were missing.

"Either SCORPIA knew he would flip sides," growled Wolf, "or he wasn't the one they were trying to catch off-guard." As Snake protested in the teenager's favor, the unit leader barked into his phone, "Fox, Eagle, abort mission."

Both of them leaned in to hear the response while Snake adjusted his sling. There were a couple seconds of silence and a click as Fox probably removed the phone from his belt, followed by a loud crash on the opposite end, a sharp yell, and finally an automated voice informing them in a flat tone that the line they were trying to reach had been disconnected.

"Damn." Wolf slammed a fist on the table.

* * *

><p>Alex glanced down at his watch, sipping at the new bottle the waitress had brought him (after 'proving' that he was twenty-one with a fake driver's license and showing her that she had actual money to pay her with). Twenty-three minutes.<p>

* * *

><p>Before Fox could go on a shooting rampage, a gunshot breezed past his head, sending him scurrying back for cover.<p>

Eagle managed to toss three of his marbles into the room before slamming the door closed again, shouting, "Sorry, right room!" He scrambled over to where Fox was keeping his back to the wall of the corridor he just come through, peeking around the corner to see the door still sort-of shut. With the doorknob and lock no longer attached to the door, it wasn't going to be completely closing any time soon. "Guess your car was right."

"Yeah, but did you notice that there were more than two guns firing?"

The soldier's face took on a speculative look that was strangely alien to the man's face. "Really? Then Alex was wrong?"

Fox frowned. "It wouldn't be the first time, but…this feels strangely ominous."

"Heh. Ominous. Been reading the dictionary recently?" He received a well-deserved swat on the head for that quip.

"Fox, Eagle, abort mission," Wolf's voice crackled over the speakerphone. Eagle rolled his eyes in a way that perfectly conveyed 'bite me,' and Fox held up a finger for silence as he removed the phone from his belt. He opened his mouth to respond, "Hell no," only to hear the door crash open. With a yell, he dropped the phone as he exchanged it for his gun, getting off five shots before ducking back behind the wall. By the grunt on the other side, at least one had its intended destination.

Smoke from Eagle's marbles poured out the door and silence fell as both sides waited for clear shots. The mist rolled dramatically over the floor before slowly dissipating. Almost simultaneously, both the SCORPIA agents, Fox and Eagle got off a dozen shots between them before diving back under cover.

"So," Eagle huffed, somewhat out of breath, "four SCORPIA agents versus the two of us. What battle tactics would you propose?"

Fox broke out into a truly malevolent grin. "I have an idea, but you might want to cover your head. And I need those marbles."

With a quizzical and almost disturbed expression, the soldier handed over the plastic bag, curling into a protective position saved normally for earthquake drills as the spy removed a handful of the explosive sphere.

Tossing the marbles from hand to hand, he waited for the SCORPIA agents doubtlessly sneaking up on them to get closer. He counted out ten of the specially made smoke grenades between both hands. Perfect. When the closest man was little more than two meters away, he walked out from behind the corner and smashed two marbles together in his face, creating a short-term anesthesia and knocking him out of the game for the next half-hour.

Catching the other three slightly off-guard, he roundhouse kicked the closest one in the ribs, used the slight rebound to catch another in the throat, and elbowed his neighbor in the shoulder—forcing him to involuntarily drop his gun as his fingers splayed—before shattering another marble on the floor. The agents stumbled backwards as he vanished into the acrid smoke.

Another burst of white fumes to their left and Fox caught them unaware on their right, dealing a double-handed blow to one head, sending that one to the ground, and a low kick that left another moaning in piteous agony.

The third, and last, knelt down to unload a round in the spy's direction, most getting dangerously close, three embedding their cylindrical bodies in his Kevlar-covered chest, and two catching him in the lower leg. Fox returned the favor with three wild shots and a lucky one in his shooting arm. Smashing two more metallic orbs and tossing them at his face, he put the last one out.

When the smoke had completely cleared, Eagle called out a muffled, "All clear?" He was still curled up, worried the roof was about to collapse over his head.

"We're clear, but my shooting still sucks. Now I hope you remember how to make tourniquets from that first-aid class at BB or I'm just going to sit here and bleed to death."

* * *

><p>He was about to take another peek at his watch when the young fiery-haired waitress spoke up. "Whatcha waiting for?"<p>

Alex shrugged. "I was supposed to meet a friend on the other side of the street to watch a movie. Just nervous, I guess. Another bottle?" He lifted his empty one up to show her.

"Sure thing." She knelt down to grab another drink from the small fridge. "Girlfriend?"

With a look around the still-empty restaurant, he looked back over at the waitress. "What?"

"Your 'friend'." Air quotes went around the last word, and you didn't have to be an expert to hear the sarcasm. "Or boyfriend, if you swing that way."

The teenager laughed at her remark. "It's just a guy I haven't seen in awhile. My family moved, and until now, we haven't gotten the chance to speak again. And no," he added, "I don't swing that way." He caught sight of the time on his wrist. Ten minutes. "Boyfriend?"

Exchanging the used bottle for the fresh, cold one, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Hmm?"

"Do you have a boyfriend, or don't you swing that way?"

When she giggled, it was a beautifully pure sound. Like chimes in the summer wind. "Touché. And nope. I found out my last date was cheating on me, kicked his sorry, undeserving ass out of my car and vowed never to trust a jock again. Are you making me an offer?"

"Maybe. If this offer were to ever happen…how would you be tempted to answer?"

The redhead leaned down on her elbows, fingering the rim of the empty glass bottle. "I'm still undecided, but my mom always said that you can tell a guy's heart by the way he tips."

Despite the sweet talking, the name and number the spy gave were both of a currently single friend he hadn't seen in over a year: Tom Harris. As he walked out the door, a backpack (courtesy of Fox) slung over one shoulder and new bottle of cola in hand, his mind was completely focused on the task ahead. If it appeared that he had been a regular seventeen-year-old kid for those fleeting minutes, it was all in the façade he gotten increasingly better at building up.

* * *

><p>Wolf and Snake made it to the back door in time to meet Eagle and Fox—or Eagle carrying Fox—just opening the door. Fox waved at them. "We think the phone broke when I dropped it."<p>

Wolf felt the worry drain out as he tried not to kill the grinning duo, but Snake suffered just the opposite effect. "Are you _bleeding_?"

"No. I'm being carried because I had too much to drink. It'll pass in a second. The bleeding, I mean."

Eagle clarified for them. "See, we were going to take them by surprise, but there were a lot of them so Fox went all ninja on them and took them out, I mean not killing them or anything, so they were pretty out of it, so I figured we needed to grab you, because someone needs to watch them and I disabled the sniping rifle and dropped their guns out the window into one of the shrubberies*** down here and carried Fox down so Snake could get a better tourniquet on his leg, because I almost failed the medical part of training but that wasn't completely my fault and I remembered enough to make an okay one so here we are."

"I think that's called a run-on sentence," Fox declared, likely still in shock.

"Snake, find a cleaner environment, preferably with no cameras watching you, and fix up Fox's leg," Wolf said, getting his team back on to the important things. "Eagle and I will go back up to make sure the welcoming party is sleeping comfortably. Anyone with time leftover needs to call Eagle's cell and tell me where the hell Alex is off to now."

Eagle bounced up and down on his toes, hand raised like a schoolboy with an answer to the teacher's question. "I can do that!"

"Anyone with _free time_, Eagle," Wolf replied, a vein throbbing on his forehead.

"But why do we need free time when we could just look over there?" He pointed to the front of the embassy as if it was the obvious thing in the world. "The real question should be who he killed for that uniform."

* * *

><p>AN: This is the second half of what I wrote on my vacation. Why did it take me this long to get this half up? One word for you: procrastination. And some other stuff, but mostly just that. Most of that 'other stuff' involves my twin (_NightmareWorld_) trying to get me to start thinking about a new story she's planning. If this keeps up, I am **NEVER** going to finish this at the rate I keep working on other stories. After I finish hiding her body, I'll get the next chapter up.

WARNING: The next chapter may take longer to get up than this one. With school starting back up in a month-ish and my driving test in the next two or three weeks, I'm writing whenever I can.

*After research for a different story, I determined that the Walther P99QA is pretty much standard use in SAS. And yes, these have to be threaded to support a silencer. I researched this too. I believe the Ruger is the same.

**I love that band. ^_^

***"We want…a shrubbery!" [dramatic chord] "A what?" "Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!" "Ow, ow! No more! We shall find you a shrubbery!" "You must return here with a shrubbery or else you will never pass through this wood alive!" "O Knights of Ni, you are just and fair and we shall return with a shrubbery." "One that looks nice." "Of course." "And not too expensive." "Yes." "Now…go!" – The Quest for the Holy Grail (Not appropriate for young children. Or myself. Or anyone, for that matter. Produced by Monty Python.)


	9. Chapter 8

Part eight of _End of the Road_. Warnings in advance for dark/evil Alex. It's also two in the morning, so please excuse mistakes until I get some sleep. And R&R!

* * *

><p>The limousine crawled up to stop in front of the main entrance to the British embassy. Thomas Bancroft was about to step from the vehicle, opening the door himself despite his chauffeur's wishes, only to be stopped by a young policeman. He peered up at the youthful face. "Officer, is there something I can do for you?"<p>

"I was informed that you would be coming, Mr. Bancroft, and that your chauffeur was sadly uninformed on the current situation."

"Situation?" There had been no mention of anything like this.

The policeman removed his helmet and bent down to better see the ambassador. "Sir, a little girl was hit by a car. We have not yet located the driver. It is our hope that once he hears the news, the culprit will return to turn himself in."

"Oh. Oh god, that's terrible."

"It is a bloody awful situation and my captain sent me down to direct you around to the underground entrance. The embassy doesn't use it much anymore, but there's an elevator ready to take you to the main floor. Sorry for the confusion."

"Not so long as it helps you catch the bastard, pardon my English."

"Not at all, sir. Many thanks for your cooperation." The policeman straightened up and walked over with a slight limp to speak with the driver, pointing the way to the little-known entrance.

Only the driver and policeman knew that, in fact, no one had been killed. The words had been code to let the driver know that there was 'little' trouble remaining, but it could very well 'return.' The 'driver,' or MI6, had not been 'located,' or informed of the immediate situation, but once they had been, no further trouble should lie in front of them. Even his dress, as a police officer, signified that all was going like planned between them.

If the man had been in the uniform of a security guard, for example, the ambassador would be taken to another location immediately. If he had said a man, instead of girl, then the situation would have been dire, but under control. And, worst case scenario, had an innocent pedestrian been killed, then everything was going to hell in a handbasket; only in this case would the ambassador be informed of the situation. All else could be controlled.

The driver said nothing in response, merely nodding and following the young man's directions as was expected of him.

As the limousine pulled away, thoroughly protected from surprises by bulletproof glass and armor-plating to rival that of the prime minister's, Alex spun the helmet on his index finger and thumped it back on to his head. He even whistled as he walked off to figure out where his team had gone off too and what had become of the SCORPIA agents. MI6 would have to be informed of this and get their actors out here for the latest performance/cover-up.

* * *

><p>Wolf spun his head so fast to catch a glance of the familiar police officer that he might have received a touch of whiplash. "Damn. Well, at least we know he's still in the vicinity. Plan stays the same. Snake, medical kit's in the car, but let's try to cover up some of the blood. Anyone asks, Fox tripped and sprained his ankle. Eagle, show me to these SCORPIA creeps."<p>

Fox slipped an arm around Snake's neck with a grunt. "If I had crutches, this would be considerably easier."

"How much does it hurt?" the medic asked, walking slowly to make sure the spy wouldn't lag behind, and keeping close to the buildings to hopefully hide the steadily spreading bloodstain on Fox's jeans.

"Considerably less than last time, to my surprise."

Snake's eyes narrowed to slits. "_Last_ time?"

"Dammit, I didn't mean to let that slip."

"And you were going to mention this _when_?"

"Never, if I could help it." He glanced up to see a policeman engaged in conversation with a tourist, her suitcase and heels dusty from walking to her hotel. The officer was marking directions on the young lady's map as she laughed at some joke he made. When he looked over at her, she nodded and they parted. "Al, where'd you get the uniform?"

Alex turned around just as his helmet fell over his eyes. "From someone who didn't realize how big my head was. I'm amazed I could find enough cloth to make this thing look like it's actually mine. No, I got lucky. Someone I know nabbed one from a smaller officer."

"Please don't tell me that he's your liaison with MI5."

"I'm not so stupid that I would maintain contact with a government official while pretending to work for terrorists. I hired a guy."

"You _hired_ someone? Isn't that a little dangerous, considering the situation?"

The teenage 'officer' shrugged. "It would be if I hadn't paid him for the next forty-eight hours in advance. There's a certain amount of honor between thieves. He won't sell my information or the ambassador out to the highest bidder, and I won't go after him for other jobs he does. By the way, I see your shooting hasn't improved."

"My shooting is just fine," Fox retorted.

"Just fine won't cut it here. After those lectures, I'm taking you out to the shooting range." He shared a look with Snake and smirked. "Don't let him get up until he gets that leg fixed."

"Hey!"

"I have enough sedatives for two," Snake warned.

"I haven't done anything besides walk. No stunts, as promised. And I'll let you stick me back in the hospital until you're satisfied that I'm healthy."

The medic felt his eye twitch, but nodded. From what he could tell, the limp only looked better because it had been sufficiently bandaged. Despite all administrations it was getting more and more noticeable. "Fine. Five minutes. After that you get a full dose of sedatives and I drag you back for treatment myself."

Alex noted the time on his watch. "Five minutes. I think I can do that with a few modifications. Can I borrow a small dose of that sedative, Snake, and if one of you has a pocket knife that you don't mind me getting dirty, that would be helpful too."

* * *

><p>The first guy to regain control of his senses, the one who had sustained two cracked ribs from Fox's well placed kick and a seriously pained groin, realized that he was handcuffed to an uncomfortable metal chair. Once Eagle saw him groggily begin to stir, he called Wolf into the room.<p>

Between them, they had managed two pairs of handcuffs (only one of which had a key that they could locate), shoelaces and electrical cords that had been left by the previous tenants. The one closest to consciousness was the one with the keyless cuffs, and his concussed comrade with the others. Despite prods and none-too-gentle-kicks, the other two would not budge.

"Fox's stuff works like magic," Wolf grunted, flipping the last one over with his foot and binding his arms with the black and red plastic cords. "If I hadn't just felt this guy's heartbeat, I would swear that he was dead."

"If we could just get some of those handy plastic ties," Eagle thought aloud, "it would make this tying job a lot easier."

"Don't tell me you missed the whole section we did on knots."

"I was there…sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well, Sarge had dragged our asses out on another one of those late night thousand mile runs, so I didn't get a lot of sleep that night."

"You _slept_ through the seminar?"

"Yeah…"

Wolf was tempted to ask how the hell the soldier had managed to even pass the basic SAS courses, when both men noticed the SCORPIA agent waking. "Looks like Sleeping Beauty here's ready to answer some questions."

Their captive glanced up at both of them, tilted his head back to see the window—probably to calculate the time he had been out based on the angle of the sunlight—and tested his bonds. When he was entirely satisfied that they had completely deprived him of any means of escaping, and his vast supply of weaponry, he relaxed. No yelling, no demands to be released, nothing. Just a blank stare at the opposite wall.

"Who do you work for?" Like using a lie-detector, the first questions you ask are the ones that you already know the answers to. You don't let on that you know the correct answer, but act like they are always lying, even when you know they aren't.

Except this method doesn't work so well when the person you're trying to interrogate refuses to answer anything. And that was exactly what this agent was doing. Nothing. He just stared blankly forward. It didn't matter what he asked or how, even if he purposely revealed some of the things his team was privy to. Not a twitch.

Wolf slammed the door shut, locking the SCORPIA agents inside, and clenched his teeth. "Damn. What are we supposed to do with them in the first place? They'll either escape or utilize some obscure loophole, and the bastard _knows_ that."

"What do we do now, then?" He still had five of Smithers' smoke grenades left, and was idly fingering two of them, ready to set them off at a moment's notice. Eagle's gun had also been removed from its holster, sitting atop his knee should he need it.

"Hold them until MI6 makes their own arrest. They should keep these four under wraps and away from public view."

"So…basically nothing."

The unit leader grumbled under his breath in a manner that suggested his answer was "Pretty much."

Palming the mini grenades in his left hand, Eagle crossed his arms. "Why do they call us over to help if all we do is babysit?"

"Knowing MI6, they're probably setting us up for someth…" He trailed off as a thought suddenly came to him. "Wait. Didn't Fox mention something about Alex's parents?"

Eagle nodded. "On the ride over, he said that Alex would never work for SCORPIA because they killed his entire family and guardian. What are you getting at?"

"If he has no family or guardians left, where does he go when work's done?"

Neither of them could find an answer.

"You think there might be another reason for us being here?" Eagle finally asked.

"I know there is."

"You know there is what?"

Both of them spun around to see Alex enter through the door marked 'EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY', Fox's mundane grey backpack over one shoulder and looking very normal at first glance. Except for the policeman's helmet dipping over his eyes, of course. The rest of his clothes had been replaced with the ones he had worn from the hospital. To their relief, it didn't sound like he'd heard anything but Wolf's response.

"Nothing. What were you up to?" Wolf asked, effectively steering the conversation away from its previous subject.

"Re-directing the ambassador. He should be out of danger. Now Ben said something about all four agents being in this building."

"He's right, and that's not what you said they would do."

They met eyes when the teenager looked up at his words, Wolf's onyx ones hard and questioning, while Alex's russet-colored orbs could have been blind to the world for all the life in them. K-Unit's brilliant and brave leader was the one to break contact first.

"Yes, that was what I said, because that is what they should have done under standard procedures. For something like this to have happened, they had to have gotten orders otherwise. Which means that they knew I had never changed sides. But you could have figured that much." Eagle started to speak up, probably with a stupid remark to diffuse the situation, but the spy put a hand up to stop him. "I knew this would happen in advance, so give me the chance to declare sides. Wolf, I would never join SCORPIA. I would rather die a trillion times over before standing beside those pathetic child-killers." His eyes softened as he slid his Beretta from the small, hidden holster on his ankle and put it in Wolf's right hand, simultaneously putting the Raven on the floor. Positioning the man's index finger on the trigger, he raised the barrel to rest against the pale skin of his forehead.

The soldier's hands never trembled, to his credit, but he did attempt to force the gun down. Alex's fingers glued his own to the trigger, not letting them budge. "Alex, what are you doing? We have a job to finish."

"I need the absolute trust of every man and woman working with me. Your lives have been in my hands, placed in constant danger by the mission I'm trying to complete, and now mine is in yours. If you don't trust me, I know your team sure as hell doesn't. Instead of wasting time, just shoot. Ben can lead you through the rest of the steps, I won't be dragged back to SCORPIA to die a horrible, drawn out death, and none of you risk your life for a cause you don't believe in. Everyone wins." The teenager closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and repeating his own words in a submissive tone. "Everyone wins."

As Alex's fingers loosened, Wolf wrenched the gun from him and whacked him over the head with the butt of the Beretta. As he stumbled back, eyes wide, the soldier repeated the act, if a little lighter this time. "What do I have to say to get it into your head? I. Trust. You. _We_ trust you. Besides, Fox would kill me if I shot you. Now get your act together and figure out the next plan of action. I don't like to stand around waiting for things to get done when I could be doing something." It was somewhat less congenial than most people would have put it, as he was yelling by the end.

When their eyes locked the second time, Wolf's were irked but trusting, and Alex's were stunned but understanding. It was the teenage spy who tore his eyes away first.

"What is with you guys and using violence to solve all your problems?" demanded an exasperated Eagle.

Alex retrieved both guns—if having one of the aforementioned liberally thrown at your face can be considered retrieval—and got back to his feet. "So. The four agents."

"Right through that door. Key's in the door." He turned to head in that direction, but a finger snagged at his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. "I believed you. Fox did too, the entire time." Despite his immaturity in most situations, especially the death-defying ones, Eagle always had his heart in the right place.

"Even small slivers of doubt can easily break through that, and you would have followed Wolf's decisions to the very end. You weren't the one I was trying to convince. Wolf," he didn't face either of them, preferring to watch the small silver and blue key sticking out sideways from the doorknob, "the offer still stands. Just…don't judge me harshly for how I do things." Before anyone had a chance to think things over, he twisted the key around and opened the door. Alex entered the room, but the two soldiers preferred to stand just outside the threshold.

The captive agent didn't look up until Alex grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact. "Really, Victor, did you think you and your friends could get away with this?" he snarled more viciously than Wolf had ever done. "Shooting me in the back, taking all the credit for yourselves and just walking away? Just like that?"

Victor didn't react at first, narrowing his eyes but not rising up to the taunts.

"You aren't in the principal's office, Vickie. When I go back to Italy, I'll be dragging you back in humiliation. Three might even let me have a field day with you. We've gotten quite friendly, you know."

"Lies!" the SCORPIA agent finally hissed, effectively ending his silence. "We got a call on our drive up that said you were expendable, that you had gone back to your old owners."

Alex backhanded him harder than necessary without a single twinge of guilt. "No one owns me. You, on the other hand, are only on the leash until Kurst finds a prettier bitch."

"Says the one looking like Frankenstein." Victor leaned forward, stretching his bonds as far as they would go. "I heard a rumor that you're only alive because Kurst liked falling asleep to the sound of your screams. How long could they drag it out next time, I wonder? Months? Years?"

Reaching into the smallest pocket in the borrowed backpack, he flicked open a pocketknife and held it to the SCORPIA agent's jugular. "I have a few questions I want answered. You'll answer them unless you want a few accidental nicks in some unfortunate locations. I assure you that Three taught me well enough how to keep my victims alive."

"And you think I would cave in to a _child_? You may shoot well, but killing and interrogating are two very different arts. You don't have the guts to get your hands dirty, kid," he sneered, settling back in his chair as if he were there on his own terms.

One small flick of his hand and blood ran freely from a crimson streak on his left cheek. "Call me a child again," he murmured in a voice that sent chills down everyone's spines, "and I will not be so lenient. Tell me where and how far SCORPIA has infiltrated and I will let you and all your friends here off the hook, so to speak."

"Fuck you."

The same hand withdrew from his neck, folded the blade back in, and slammed it down on his hand. Unlike the first time, Victor bit his lip to keep from yelling. "That was your second proximal phalanx (longest bone on the index finger), if I recall correctly. A minor injury, and hardly crippling, but you won't be shooting or throwing punches any time in the near future."

"Fine," he spit out, like the words were acid to his tongue. "You win, but you keep your promise. All four of us are let off the hook."

"Got it. The information?"

Victor nodded his head in the direction of the other three SCORPIA agents. "Take care of them first and I give you what you need to know after."

Alex sighed, but complied. He flicked the bloodied blade back out, quickly shooting a trusting glance up at Wolf, and stepped over to the semiconscious one. Momentarily obstructing the view of the agent's neck, he quickly plunged the hidden needle into his neck, holding the nerves under both sides of his jaw so he couldn't yell out or groan, and injected the sedative. When his heartbeat and quick breathing slowed down enough to indicate a deep sleep, he dumped the needle by his bag. Making a show of nudging his bag to the side so Victor could see his comrade, he ran the thin blade along the man's throat. It wasn't deep, but with the amount of blood, he was the only one with that knowledge. Wolf flinched, as he'd expected, gritted his teeth and stayed his position, leaning against the doorjamb; Eagle appeared to have a weak stomach, as he responded by darting out into the hallway.

He repeated the thin slices, knowing that the gas Fox had used on the other two would keep them nearly comatose for at least a few more minutes, and in mere seconds, it appeared that he had killed three men as easily as a hunter showing mercy to a downed animal.

As much as it sickened the soldiers, Victor approved. "No one wants to go back in failure to the executive board, and they would have wanted it this way. The truth is Kurst and Three were positive that you had been broken entirely. They got lazy and only sent us in as the backup team. When reports came in that MI6 had taken you back, it was chaos as we put together a new plan. It's over. Now let me die in peace as you promised."

"You're already dead. Have you ever known me to carry a knife without poisoning it?"

It seemed like an eternity as the agent scrunched his face up in thought before realizing what he was implying. "I was right all along. You're still soft. That slash was my death sentence, but you tricked me into revealing everything. I was…" He hesitated as his eyelids drooped, and finally passed out as the sedative Alex had dipped Snake's pocketknife in sunk into his system. Checking his heart rate, to make sure it was slowing down and not just the agent using a last-ditch attempt to trick him into actually killing him, he assured himself that the man was fast asleep.

"Wolf, is there any first-aid equipment left around here?" he shouted as he darted over to his first 'victim', taking off his jacket to staunch the bloody neck wound. "And someone needs to get pressure on what's-his-name over there! I'm not very good with knives and up-close instruments to start with, much less under pressure."

Eagle still hadn't returned, but Wolf removed his own jacket and copied Alex's actions on the man he pointed to. "I thought about taking a shot at you for a split second, and I guess it's a good thing I thought better of it."

When Alex and Wolf finally heard the thud of running footsteps, Alex looked down at his watch, then at the blood sprayed across his hands and realized there were probably a few splashes of crimson on his face too based on the feel of wet drops streaking down his chin. He groaned. This was _not_ going to go over well...

Snake flew into the room at top speed, practically dragging Eagle behind him. "I gave you five minutes, and you know what that means." He only put his medical skills to practice after sticking the teenager in the neck with a full dose of sedatives.

* * *

><p>AN: I know I made Alex seem so evil there for a minute, and it was really weird for me to write, so…yeah. Please don't complain. I even posted a warning. And the really clichéd scene with Alex and Wolf pretty much set itself up… Ugh, I feel like this chapter was just so OOC for Alex, even though I know it wasn't.


	10. Chapter 9

Part nine of _End of the Road_.

* * *

><p>[One week later…]<p>

"Ahh," he groaned as the third set of stitches was tugged from his right leg. The jagged gash had been a long one, and the stitching equally so. "Don't they have dissolving, oww, stitches nowadays?"

"Yes, you even have some imbedded beneath the ones I'm takin' out right now," Dr. Reynolds patiently explained, keeping his eyes on the curved tweezers he was twisting and pulling around. "I was told to layer extra stitches over the original ones. If you'd stop runnin' around, there wouldn't be this many to remove."

Fox agreed. "He's got a point there, Alex."

"I didn't do _anything_!"

"That's not how Wolf puts it."

The teenager groaned. "Really. _You_ got injured more than me and everyone complains that I'm out of bed or walking."

"I don't look like an animated corpse or Frankenstein's monster."

This situation wouldn't have been so maddening if the first thing he had woken up to was a set of handcuffs securing one arm to the side of the hospital bed and another around his opposite ankle. If he needed a restroom break, there was a wheelchair folded up in the corner and Fox had the key on a chain around his neck. The older spy hadn't left the room to his knowledge.

"How long am I going to be immobilized? At least let me walk around before I go insane."

"I'm sure Snake won't mind if you go home in another…oh, three weeks provided things go well and the patient behaves himself."

"What? Tha—ahh! What are you doing?"

"The same thing I've been workin' on for the last hour," Dr. Reynolds muttered. With a last inspection of his work, he applied a thin layer of gauze as he had four times already to his chest and back, left arm, stomach and left leg. "And that's all I can do for now. As your medic friend suggested, a surgery on your knee would be the best suggestion n' if you're in the mood for mass fixin's all at once, the left side of your pelvis should be corrected n' reset."

Alex nodded, which was difficult to tell as he was currently laying on his right forearm, careful not to disturb the bandaging around his recently unstitched left one, a blanket covering him from his bare knees to his shoulders. All hospitals are cold, whether from a constantly below-freezing temperature or because all the patients are stuck in nightgowns that never seem to fit. At St. Dominics, the pale blue gown was just his size and thick enough to actually feel like clothing, so the blame was entirely on the air conditioner blasting out arctic air.

"Other than that, you're doin' surprisingly well. No infections, no need for blood trans, all your stitchin's are out, and none of your friends are goin' to let you so much as bend over for the next month. One thing I need to know before I can put up the next round of painkillers is if you've had a tetanus shot within the past five years. If not, I'll have to order one."

"Two years ago. Last time I was here, they gave me one while treating the burns on my shoulders."

The doctor flipped through the patient file he had brought in, scanning back through the records to the date mentioned. "Same time you came in with the fractured ankle?"

"That would be it."

"Hmm. Someone forgot to write it down, I guess. Obviously wasn't me." He muttered the last part as an aside to some invisible audience. "That's one thing off the list, then. I'll be back with your next rack of drugs in a couple minutes 'n see if there's an openin' in Teresa's schedule for Operatin' Room 3." As if he were a Roman emperor stepping from his throne, the doctor flourished his white coat behind him as he departed from his patient's room*.

Alex stared at the gauze covering every limb except his right arm, which had escaped injury for the sole purpose of it being his shooting arm. He lightly jingled the metal bracelet pinning him on his stomach. "Can I get up, now?"

"I don't know. Can you?" Fox was having much too much fun abusing his power as the bearer of the key.

Growling under his breath, the handcuffs jingled louder. "I am going to kill you the minute Snake lets me free."

"Which gives me another month, if I don't tell him that you've been exerting yourself more than you should."

"You _wouldn't_!"

"I would, as a matter of fact." But Alex couldn't see the smile that crossed his face as he stood, pulling the chain from his neck and unlocking the cuff. When the teenager had gotten comfortable on his back, the link was immediately secured around the opposite rail. "I'm sure that as soon as he sees everything healing like it should, we can at least get rid of the handcuffs."

"I'd bet a tenner that it wasn't Snake who suggested the cuffs, Ben," he said almost accusingly.

Fox chortled, putting a receipt in his book to hold his page as he set it to the side. "Speaking of which, someone else has been trying to get in to your room to speak with you. I've told him that you need to sleep, and they have you on steady painkillers, but sooner or later he'll manage."

Shadows fell back over the teenager's eyes and his head thumped back against the pillow. "Blunt."

"I didn't want to bother you with it before, you still recovering and all, but he needs a full report of…the time you were MIA."

"Yeah, because it all has to be recorded. Just like the rest of my life." Propping himself up on his good arm, he took a deep breath and asked, "Is K-Unit still here?"

"'Course. They haven't left. Wolf and Eagle insisted that their security isn't what it should be, so Eagle's been upgrading their systems and Wolf's been yelling at anyone who comes within range." The spy got up from his chair, bending this way and that to get the kinks from his back. Sleeping in plastic chairs, no matter how nice they might look on the surface, just doesn't agree with the human anatomy. "I doubt they'll be leaving anytime soon, if that's what you're wondering."

"I guessed as much," Alex said, glaring at the link around his wrist, like he could burn through it with his eyes. "Hey, Ben?"

"Mmm?"

"Uh, have you ever—"

A knock on the door, followed immediately by Dr. Reynolds entering the room, interrupted his line of speech. "Sorry to interrupt, but Teresa can fit you in so long as you get there within the next ten to fifteen minutes. _And_," he quickly went on, before either of them could speak up, "you have a guest. Make it quick. I'll be back." The good doctor skirted around the considerably taller man standing in the doorway before making his dramatic leave.

The bland, unassuming face of MI6's director, Alan Blunt, was that of someone who blended into the general majority of any city. He didn't dress expensively, nor the opposite, but his plain suits always fit like he had been born wearing them. This was the exact opposite of the stereotypical spy portrayed by James Bond. This was a married man with two beautiful children, who went to work in a nice car before his family woke, who told the same lies his uncle Ian had, and who would die in honor but anonymity. Only years after any connections to him had died, whether accidentally, naturally, or mysteriously, would the books be written, the stories told, and the man viewed in a new light.

But that was another story for another time. Now, all that mattered was that this 'banker' expected some answers.

"Blunt," he grimaced. "It's been too long."

"I should say the same, but this is not a time for formalities. Tell me everything." The cell phone peeking out from his pocket would ensure that anything not remembered could still be reheard, as all of the business phones handed out to MI6 employees were equipped with flashlights, black lights (to see blood in dark rooms), a GPS tracking system, miniature (but just as powerful) taser, and a recording device.

Pushing the button to elevate the back of his bed, letting him sit up without putting added stress on his back or stomach, and gathering the blanket to cover his cold arms, he glanced over at Fox. "I'd rather you not be in here, if you don't mind. Not that I don't want you to hear," he quickly added as his partner took on a hurt expression, "just that Blunt won't want to stop for Q&A. If you really want, I'll tell you after the surgery." His eyes were truthful, but he was hiding something too.

Still frowning, Fox stepped out as Alex addressed their mutual boss: "The nineteenth of July, I landed in Har—" Even as he was tempted to listen, he closed the door before the teenage spy could finish his sentence.

Wolf, their current 'guard', had dragged one of the benches over from another corridor to sit comfortably by Alex's door, coffee in one hand and the daily newspaper in the other. Lying upside down against the outside of his leg was a clipboard with the names and identification numbers of any personnel/visitors allowed into the room. Even Dr. Reynolds handed over his badge and recited from heart his MI6 ID before entering. K-Unit didn't plan on letting flies past their net. The only incident to date had been a flustered nurse, new to the facility, given the wrong room number. Scanning the vials and records she had had on her person, it was evident that her story was true. The vegetarian meal and high blood pressure medication would never have gotten past anyone, much less the patient himself.

Noticing the extra Styrofoam cup, the spy gratefully accepted the caffeine. "Anything?"

"Nope. Blunt have something to say too top-secret for you to hear?"

"Nope."

The soldier waited for details, but when it stayed silent, he looked back to the opposite wall. "Snake convinced Reynolds and surgeon what's-her-name to let him stand in the operating room, to watch for intentional mistakes or overdoses that the others would be too focused to notice."

"Good idea. Hadn't thought about that."

They sat in companionable silence, watching with irritation (and amusement, on Fox's part) as Eagle ran past at one point with a large lump on the back of his head and a tall blonde in mechanic's attire chasing after him, waving what appeared to be a wrench while swearing at the top of her lungs**, until Dr. Reynolds waved his badge impatiently in front of Wolf. Once the doctor had been cleared, he propped open the door. "Time to go!" he informed the room's inhabitants.

No more than a dozen words were exchanged before Blunt abandoned the scene, the typical blankness present tainted by the sense of relief. Dr. Reynolds had disengaged the bed's brakes and now rolled it from the room, aiming for the elevator. All the operating rooms were on the first floor, and the set of four rooms MI6 reserved for their agents was on the third. Fox felt his internal alarms sound as the doctor pressed an oxygen mask over Alex's face, and the normally jumpy teenager didn't react.

Keeping up with the doctor's rapid pace, Fox's question immediately got across to Dr. Reynolds. "His conversation musta been stressful, so knowin' his condition prior to surgery I thought it would be good to bring his heart rate back down. Anesthesia*** can react negatively in some cases and I didn't want to chance that happenin'."

"Oh. Umm, just checking."

"Paranoia," the doctor muttered in a knowing voice while pressing the 'DOWN' arrow. "Everyone should have a healthy dose. No apologies necessary."

"Also, where should the rest of us wait?"

"We have the general waitin' room out front, but seeing as we probably aren't supposed to be seen and all that sneakish sort, bein' a spy business after all, there's a staff lounge outside operatin' room 2 that anyone can lead you to."

Their reflections wavered on the metal doors as the elevator ascended the shaft and the doors slid sideways to let them enter. The doctor slid the ID card around his neck through the thin slit beside the control panel, instructions above reminding personnel that the elevator would not move until verifying the user's identity. When the columns of numbers glowed with the now-illuminated blue backlight, he stabbed a finger at the '1' and went back to holding the plastic see-through over the teenager's mouth and nose.

Over the doctor's large, long-fingered hand, Fox caught Alex's clouded eyes in his own. Despite the haze of sleep descending over the young spy, he managed to convey the message that the surgeon would need the cuffs taken off. Fox obliged albeit warily. He heard the elevator ding as it reached the first floor and watched as the doctor pushed the hospital bed toward a woman in a similar white coat, probably the Teresa he had mentioned was in charge of the surgery. Snake snuck out from the group to join the two, leaving two soldiers with nothing to do. (Eagle was still running for his life.)

Fox tapped a passing nurse on the shoulder. "Could you point us to the staff lounge?"

"Sure." He nodded at a hallway to their right. "Go down that hallway there, at the second intersection, right after Weavers' office turn left and go to the fifth door on your right. It's the one nearest to OR2 and if you miss it, come back to me for some glasses."

"Thanks," and he was right. Most of the doors were unadorned and unpainted, maintaining the simple metal greys and dull whites, but someone had decided at some point that the lounge's door was lacking in color. The trim and sides of it had been painted in a steel blue, and a blindingly bright caduceus a few shades from aquamarine done neatly at eyelevel.

Inside was a small group of doctors in scrubs, gathered around a table splattered with what looked like x-rays and scattered papers from a tan medical file, two nurses standing by the water cooler were giggling at some private joke, and yet another must have still been in university judging by the array of books stacked and open within easy reach and the charts he was was filling in. None of them took notice of the lounge's new occupants.

Seeing a small empty table, Wolf and Fox grabbed two nearby chairs and took a seat in the corner.

"Where's Eagle?" Fox asked.

Wolf shrugged. "No clue, but he'll find us if he wants too."

"And Falcon?"

The newest recruit to K-Unit had cheerfully reported in after ensuring that the ambassador made it safely into the building, and then back to the airport eight hours later. He mentioned that he had run into two MI5 agents and an MI6 one over the course of the day. The American had never encountered an ounce of danger nor been aware of it. Since his check-in six days ago, Fox hadn't spotted hide nor hair of the man, though he had admittedly spent the entire time ensuring that his partner didn't make another of his famous escapes.

"Had to go home. His grandmother, the one who adopted his sister and him, wasn't expected to survive her heart attack, but from his call yesterday, she should pull through just fine. We'll meet up with when we go back to BB. After all this get sorted out, of course."

They sat there fiddling with their fingers, drinking their coffee, and generally just watching the clock more than anything else. Wolf finally spoke after a long stretch of awkward silence. "So. How are the guys that MI6 and Company dragged off? Last time I saw them, they could have been dead."

"Some better than others. Last I heard, one underwent surgery because the doctor feared the trachea may have been nicked. No word on that yet. However, only that one guy had to have a blood transfusion. All of them will be getting some nice-looking stitches to commemorate their visit, but all major blood vessels, including the carotid and jugular, were missed by a long shot. When Alex does these things, he does them right," the spy proudly declared. Then his expression darkened. "Speaking of which, I never did get much of a story behind that. What happened, exactly? They were tied up nice and tight when Eagle carried me out."

The soldier was getting in the bad habit of answering questions with shrugs, as he repeated the gesture. "Nothing, technically. The guy who regained consciousness, Victor, I think Alex called him, wasn't going to answer anything we sent his way, including ones we could've answered ourselves. I guess SCORPIA doesn't treat failure well, and Alex used that to his advantage, promising to kill him and his team in return for information. He…I think SCORPIA changed him more than he'll admit. I would've mistaken him for one of them if I hadn't known better."

"You? Trusting?" Fox scoffed. "I don't think those two words can be put into the same sentence unless the verb is negated. Falcon and you were the ones who doubted him the most, if I recall."

"I _did_, and for good reasons. It certainly didn't help when his information led to Eagle and you nearly getting shot to bits, on top of other things."

Fox had a nice bundle of bruising on his chest from his bulletproof vest catching the shots aimed for his heart and some bandaging around his leg, though the bullet had been a clean shot that missed everything important. Dr. Reynolds had offered him use of crutches, but after the first two days wobbling around on them, he found it was easier to just limp a little instead of paining his armpits with the uncomfortable instruments.

"_Exactly my point_! You aren't helping your case."

The soldier took on an almost embarrassed expression. "We had a…uh…chat…that pretty much erased my misgivings about him. Alex acts like he doesn't care, but he wanted me to trust him…"

"And you decide on a whim to eradicate all doubts?" The spy narrowed his eyes, not convinced in the slightest. "Really, what happened?"

"Seriously! We just talked it over—"

"Talked it over, mon œil****." They turned around to see Eagle approaching the table. "The kid's a downright evil genius, if you ask me. An evil, manipulative, scary kid." He pulled a chair over as Wolf glared down at him, and Eagle inched quickly back from his unit's leader. "On the other hand…nothing worth mentioning really happened."

"Wolf isn't going to kill you," Fox sighed, rolling his eyes.

"No one told _him_ that," he pointed out, to which the spy had to agree. "That kid needs to go into show business, because he either has multiple personality disorder or can put on really impressive acts. If he can convince Wolf to do something he doesn't want to, he can do damn near anything as far as I'm concerned."

Wolf protested at this. "Hey, how do you know he wasn't sincere? I was standing three feet from him and it looked pretty damn sincere. I have kids, two girls if you've forgotten, and if anyone can tell when someone's faking emotion to get, say, a cookie or trust, it would be me." He folded his arms over his chest, daring one of them to contradict him

"It doesn't necessarily mean that he wasn't telling the truth," Fox rushed to say. "Al doesn't say things he doesn't mean—well, most of the time anyway—but Eagle has a point. My partner does have a flair for dramatics. And I think your story sounds familiar, Wolf." Tilting his chair back on two legs and propping his feet on the table, one atop the other in a relaxed gesture, the spy cleared his throat. "He appears out of nowhere; you say something outright that you doubt his allegiance, his skill, or something similar that gets to him; there's a short staring contest that he wins; Alex does something overly dramatic and probably detrimental to his health, like…" he thought about the most likely scenario, "…making you hold a knife to his throat," Eagle spit his drink out via his nose, "or standing on the window ledge; then he makes this emotional speech that basically goes along the lines of 'accept me or let me die by your hand for the sake of getting this shit over with'. Everyone hugs and the debate ends there."

"Damn, you're good," the bomb and ammunitions expert muttered. "That's…like six and a half points out of eight."

"My lowest score so far." His response was dry, giving the impression that this dialogue had already been done multiple times. "Which ones?"

"Well it was a gun to the temple, but close enough to win half credit."

"Ooo, should've gotten that one. Normally he's too innovative to go with clichés, but still good for an on-the-spot performance. And the second?"

"Isn't it obvious? The hugging. It was more like Wolf beating the crap out of Alex with his own gun."

"I did _not_ beat the crap out of Alex!" he retorted, uncrossing his arms to put his hands on the table. When some of the staff started staring, he lowered his voice. "I just...knocked him over the head once or twice."

"And threw his gun back at him, nearly taking out his eye," his teammate added unhelpfully.

Fox whistled in admiration. "Well maybe this will teach him a lesson. Seriously though, he does it to gain respect especially on solo missions, and always in front of reliable witnesses, coincidentally. At his age, you have to do something drastic to prove that you aren't a naïve gradeschool kid, and once that's taken care of, things have a way of straightening out.

"It's _also_ a roundabout way of making sure that the other person isn't working for the other side. Every time he does it, there's always a trick behind it to ensure that the person holding the gun, or knife or whatever can't actually kill him. A trick knife, for example, that he carried in his back pocket for a couple months, a thin net or conveniently placed rope in case no one kept him from jumping, jamming devices to mess up the workings of a normal gun, etc."

"He would jam his own gun?" That seemed kind of counterproductive to Wolf, messing up the most useful weapon on your person if you really were betrayed.

Fox's reasoning followed the same path. "Never. He would jam the other person's gun, or a cheap one he had on him for just that purpose. Which one did he hand you? The Raven? That would explain things."

"No, he tossed that one to the side and gave me the Beretta he was using when we caught up to him."

"Hmm. I guess I'll have to guess that it was a one-sided thing, then. It was for the sole purpose of gaining your respect or trust at the very least. And he must trust you quite a bit not to rig the situation in his favor. That doesn't happen often."

"Or he didn't care either way." '_Everyone wins._' '_Wolf, the offer still stands._' Fox looked sharply over, the shadows under his eyes deeper than before, and dropped his chair back to sit on all fours. "Speaking of which," he asked the spy, "you said his family is out of the picture along with his last guardian. Who has custody of him, then...or at least, before he disappeared?"

"He's an emancipated teenager, and not of MI6's volition. Before he went MIA, he slept on my couch every night. I'm under the impression that he inherits his uncle's house once he turns eighteen, and that's where he'll stay then. But don't tell him that you know. It's fun letting him think that you haven't seen through his cover story."

"Then why did we get pulled in?"

The question caught the spy off-balance, confusion easily visible. "Because I wanted a unit with capable people, who had already signed the OSA papers and it would be easier to convince people that had already known Alex, as opposed to complete strangers. It wasn't like Blunt said, 'Tell your old unit to get their asses over here double-time.' Why do you ask?"

"Something just bugs me about this one. MI6 has borrowed units before, but almost always the specialized ones. It just sounds suspicious."

"_Everything_ MI6 does sounds suspicious," Fox added. "They specialize in the area."

"Well, sure."

"And if we knew everything they were doing, then they wouldn't be doing their job very well."

"So you admit that they might have something planned?"

"After working for them for…over two years now, I still have no idea how they keep the workers from discussing work with each other. Most of us just don't want to, but someone has to slip at some point. At least, I assumed that much. It hasn't happened yet."

That depressing note squashed their mood for conversation, and the next hour was spent on shallow topics, ones that didn't touch on the three volatile topics: work, Alex and what happened when this was over. When Snake finally waved them into the hallway, they were glad to have something to do. With the hopelessly overused main elevator, getting from the first floor to the third took longer than the stairs would have, so K-Unit and Fox met up with Dr. Reynolds as he was fitting the hospital bed back into Alex's semi-permanent room.

Fox and Eagle clicked the brakes into place as the doctor finished filling out a chart attached to the door. "He'll start wakin' up anytime now, but give him some time to adjust before speakin' too loudly. Sensitivity to light 'n sound while the anesthesia finishes drainin' out are common, so keep the curtains closed and conversations down to a whisper."

"I think we can manage that much," Snake assured him.

"Good. Next twenty-four hours, he'll be asleep more often than awake. Don't let 'im have any solid foods, either. The nurses should bring in soup and soft vegetables 'til the day-long period is over. No caffeine. Water whenever possible." Circling something on his clipboard and scrawling a messy, illegible signature typical to those in the medical profession, he clipped the pen to the board and re-hung it from the hook on the door. "Also, to be strictly enforced, his feet may not touch the floor for at least another week, when his knee and pelvis can withstand pressure."

"Like hell," Alex's quiet voice rasped.

Dr. Reynolds raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice to a borderline whisper. "Huh. I thought I was the one with the medical degree and power to keep you sedated for the next week, but I must've confused myself with someone else." Exasperated, the doctor turned back to Fox. "If he's in pain, looks like he's in pain or you just want him to shut up,—"

"Hey!"

"—push the button on the IV rack next to his bed."

"I will keep that one at the foremost part of my memory, doctor."

"In fact, if Rider is awake for more than an hour and a half during the first day at any particular time, it means he is fighting the medicine. Press the button if he doesn't get back to sleep within that time."

Alex couldn't pull off his usual irritable look, the effort to stay awake negating all other functions (like attitude), but he certainly made an attempt.

"Like now, for example."

As the doctor reached to press the button, the teenager locked his wrist in place with three fingers, a move he had learned at some point while he was really little and engaged in all manner of fighting classes. "Give me a minute and I'll get to sleep."

"One minute."

He gestured at Fox to come over, pulling him down to talk as quietly as possible while still being heard. "Don't say anything out loud in here that you want to keep in this room. Just nod or shake your head. Do you have a bug searching device handy on you?" Fox nodded. "Find a room on this floor that MI6 and MI5 aren't listening to and get Eagle to turn off the security in there for an hour." Another nod. "I have some explanations that you all deserve to hear, but MI6 cannot know some parts of the real story." The teen yawned, nearly falling asleep on Fox's shoulder before the spy guided his head back to the pillow.

* * *

><p>AN: I wrote this over the course of two days, but for some odd/stupid/ completely insane/sleep-depriving reason, I haven't written a single word outside of the 2200 (8 PM) to 0600 (6 AM) time range. So if at any point you thought, "Was she actually conscious when she wrote this?" then you have a valid reason for believing just that. And HOLY TROMBONE ON A POGO STICK*! I did _not_ intend to have five thousand and a half words. Now…time to upload and get some well-deserved sleep.

*_Firefly_/_Serenity_ fans: For anyone who doesn't think this guy sounds almost exactly like Mal's twin brother, you must be on something or have never watched _Firefly_. Or I'm just tired and delusional…

**_Fullmetal Alchemist_ fans: What the hell is _wrong_ with me? I swear I didn't realize what I was doing until the editing stage, then I thought, "Blonde waving a wrench and swearing? That sounds familiar…" As I told the browncoats, no, not the prelude to a future crossover. Just trying to see who is paying attention. (Evidently, I'm not. XP)

***It is two in the morning and my internet is so slow that it might as well be nonexistent. If this isn't true, then…sorry. I'm a little tired and still have to proof. (Normally, I would go in-depth and figure out exactly how anesthesia works, as you've seen countless times, but…y'know…simple math: thirty-five hours without sleep + snail-paced internet = tired-as-shit author.)

****I'm really tired, so sorry about this. The translation is essentially like saying, "Yeah, right." Sarcastic tone intended. The technical translation is "my eye," which is similar to us using the phrase "my foot" or "my ass".

*Search "eddsworld" on youtube... I can't remember if there was inappropriate language/sexual innuendos/gore (okay, there was gore but it's animated), soooo...have fun.


	11. Chapter 10

Part ten of _End of the Road_. WARNING: Serious chapter! (Oh the horror.) (Okay, only somewhat serious…) It's also a really short one. I made it as long as I could, but this can't be dragged out much more than it already has.

* * *

><p>"So, starting from the beginning, I flew into Haryana, India. Or an airport close to Haryana…I think."<p>

There had been multiple places where the security was minimalistic. Most of these places were storage closets, but there was barely enough room for cleaning supplies stuffed in, much less five people.

"One of the deep cover agents in the area drove me across the border into Bijnot, where he introduced me to a close friend living in the town."

It was Eagle's brilliant and out of the blue idea to look in rooms that _only _employees frequented, on the assumption that no matter how good these people were, it would be a waste of time, money and bugs to watch rooms where it would be difficult (and stupid) for someone foreign to the building to enter without standing out.

"His friend owned a small hotel, cheap and on the outskirts of Bijnot. I'd been there for a week-long stint last year, too. That was my first mistake."

Once the night staff—more commonly called the ghost laborers—and patients were the only inhabitants of St. Dominics, Fox snuck into the lounge that Dr. Reynolds had pointed out to Wolf and him earlier that same day. The only camera had been turned off for the night, courtesy of Eagle's computer skills. A quick sweep confirmed what the soldier had thought: no bugs.

"I heard the scuffle downstairs, but didn't think too much of it. The town had its share of gangs and crazies. It wasn't a unique place. If they'd used guns, I might have been suspicious, but it sounded just like any other bar fight."

The electronic bugs in Alex's room were audio only, so deceiving them was a simple exercise in caution involving the tying of the lightweight metal IV rack to the back of the young spy's wheelchair and three overly cautious trips in and out of the medical 'cell', in Alex's exact words. While it looked humorous in person, the ears-only recorders would catch nothing on their tapes.

Eagle put the cameras they would have to pass into a short loop until the two had passed completely through. In fact, the only one who ever appeared on the video feeds was Eagle himself, when he slipped on a slick patch of floor and his arm was briefly seen by a camera he tried to avoid. Not that it meant much. The security guard on watch wouldn't have noticed the soldier's brief mistake unless he had concentrated his attention on that one feed at the exact moment of the occurrence. He did not, seeing as he was searching his pockets for spare change to get a coke from the vending machine. Fate found the one extra coin he needed on the floor.

"When the steps creaked, though, I got up. From there…well, you can probably guess. When I woke up, I was in a cell beneath Malagosto, one of their bases near Italy."

Wolf and Snake had been holding down the fort, keeping the door locked and using spare blankets to make sure the tell-tale light didn't leak into the hallway and give away their position. When they heard three taps on the door, their prearranged signal, Snake opened the door to let Fox roll Alex in. Eagle appeared less than three minutes later, his back on the floor and using his legs to propel himself backward while he watched the cameras capture every movement except for large parts of the floor. But then, not many would inelegantly wriggle their way across the floor like a fish out of water, so their cameras weren't missing much.

"It must have been…five…six months that I stayed there, if my timeline is correct, but it felt like years. It got to be routine. Torture for weeks at a time, water every six days, bread every twelve, then a doctor would patch everything up, four days of rest, and the cycle started again."

Despite Snake's protest that he should stick to water and soft foods, especially within a day of surgery, Alex convinced Eagle to grab a coke and small bag of cookies from the vending machine*. From the way he was inhaling the cookies, the foil bag might have followed if Fox hadn't prompted him to start talking.

"I knew they had staged my death. Kurst—head of SCORPIA right now—came in to tell me that MI6 had declared me dead and there would be no rescue coming. I didn't actually believe him. I mean, that would've been completely stupid. But when nothing happened… Anyone would have thought the same."

The teenager made them all swear to never let a word leak from the room. It couldn't be repeated, discussed, or mentioned. All questions needed to be asked before they closed the room back down and returned to the third floor. Blunt had been given the general story and enough to satisfy the record, but many important details had been skirted around.

"While I was lying in bed on day two of my rest days, a girl slipped in to grab a band-aid for her finger. She thought I was a SCORPIA agent, but then she was new to the area and only eight so I can imagine she thought everyone was on the same side. The next two days she made excuses to visit, and on the last one, she said her name was Lydia. Actually, she said a lot that time. I'd been recovering from a fading concussion and didn't catch much, but I did notice when one of my guards came in to drag me back. He recognized Lydia and left with an alarmed expression.

"As it turned out, she was Three's daughter." With some confusion on K-Unit's part, he clarified. "Dr. Three's the head of all things disturbing, disgusting and just plain evil at SCORPIA. Like torture. Especially torture. Needless to say, it was an awkward moment when he came in to find his daughter and favorite carving board having a nice little conversation.

"Except, it might have been a setup. I doubt that all of these events were coincidental. Not that I'll ever know. I didn't exactly have a chance to set up an interrogation session.

"He just shook his head and left. To my surprise, no one came to escort me to my cell by the end of the day and Lydia sat by my feet, chattering away. It stayed that way for the next week while Three decided I should be started on rehab. I've been in rehab before, and Three had me doing the most painful exercises I have ever experienced. I also recovered more movement within that week than I probably had before my abduction. The one thing he didn't want to fix was the kneecapping I got when I tried to escape the…" he counted on one hand, then both, before letting them settle back around the coke can with a shrug, "…one of the last times, I think. He wanted me to keep it as a reminder."

"_No matter whom you work for, remember who did this."_

"Three weeks later, after spending time with more of the children that Lydia introduced me to, Three decided that in return for the rehab he had so 'kindly' arranged for me, I had a debt to pay. For the weeks up until I started making daily commutes in London, we had…uh…lab practice. Extensive…lab practice. Which I'd rather forget about completely. The agent that switched sides was among them.

"I was hoping to stay with SCORPIA, despite how much fun that would have been, to extract as many of the children as humanly possible. They've been adopted and kidnapped from all over the world because of innate abilities developed at childhood. Lydia created a Swiss army knife, of a sort, for picking virtually any lock. By hand. Her friend Ophelia can perfectly replicate anything she sees with HD perfection. And they are being brainwashed to believe that SCORPIA helps people.

"All I told Blunt was that they had a new operation going on, and it involved the use of many young children. He got the idea and should be putting a team together right now. So I guess I'll be stuck in the hospital until he finds somewhere else to dump me. Like Norway**." He propped his head up on both hands. "That's all I can think of. Questions?"

Eagle didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, I've got one. Why haven't you been committed?" And that was what K-Unit dragged him around for: his people skills. No one breaks the ice quite like Eagle.

"Blunt fends off the psychologists," the teenager laughed, "and they probably have people just like 'em for sneaking through the legalities."

But for once (no one saw this coming), Eagle had a point. "No, I'm serious. Most POWs suffer post-traumatic stress disorder, and, no insult intended, you're still a kid for all psychological purposes, leaving you more susceptible to emotional issues like PTSD. No one's so disconnected that they can laugh at a year in hell."

Alex frowned, chewing his bottom lip and nonchalantly shrugged. "I dunno. Mostly I just can't remember large chunks of what happened, and I can block out the last month for the most part until stuff triggers the memories. I don't particularly mind the forgetting, so I didn't bring it up."

"Dissociative amnesia," Snake and Eagle simultaneously.

The medic raised an eyebrow at Eagle, who sheepishly explained, "Brother's a psychology major."

"…Okay." Snake laid his hands out on the table, palms up, as he looked back at Alex. "Dissociative amnesia*** is a general form of amnesia caused by psychological stress, and the specific type you probably have is called situation-specific amnesia. It's blocking certain events, but not everything, which is why you have a general idea but no details." He folded his hands, interlocking the fingers as he continued with a grim outlook. "There's one major problem, though. The memories are going to come back whether you want them to or not."

"They can't!" The news wasn't going over well with Alex, but the teenager pushed his sudden rush of panic down to a manageable level. "I mean… Is there any way to…stop it, or something?"

"No. The memories are all still in there, and either stimuli will make bits and pieces surface spontaneously, or they'll just gradually start to come back within a couple years."

"Well…that sucks." He glared absently at the table before resuming his previous position. "So. Any other preferably less depressing questions?"

"Who's on the team going in to kick some SCORPIA ass?" Wolf growled, to which Eagle quickly nodded.

"I have absolutely _no_ clue. Blunt said he had some preparations to make and he'd get back to me on that."

Fox caught on to his intentions before he'd finished his sentence. "Woah, wait a second, Al. I hope you aren't implying what I think you are."

The teenage spy nervously crossed his arms, which was difficult with his stiff and bandaged left arm. "I'm not implying anything."

"I think we're going to have to revert back to the handcuffs at this rate."

"You think that would do anything?"

"Maybe I can grab the taser from my desk."

"For the rest of us non-psychics," Wolf demanded, "what the hell are you two going on about?"

Alex spluttered out, "Nothing!" just as Fox said in a bland tone, "He's on the team going back to Malagosto."

"Okay, he's right but I'm not doing any shooting or anything…" he trailed off as Snake's glare went from '_stun'_ to '_instant death, nuclear holocaust, and eternal damnation_'. " Uh, I take that as a no."

Eagle found this amusing, resorting to his traditional five-year-old persona. "No? How about a 'Hell, no!'?"

"The point is I've done stuff like this before. Sort of like Point Blanc."

"Bad example," Wolf muttered.

He winced. "Point taken, but that was three years ago. I'm better than that."

"Sure, because you're never too young or maimed to direct a raid." The medic raised an eyebrow, definitely unconvinced. "This will be your first time doing this in a wheelchair, at least."

"Uh…" Alex and Fox shared a look of shame. "Maybe my…second or…or third time, actually."

If anyone could spontaneously combust, Snake would have right about then. Quite violently and all over the place, at that.

"Hey, wheelchairs are more useful than most people realize! You can store all sorts of extra ammo, not to mention multiple guns."

"This is Snake, Al." Fox shook his head sadly. "If you manage to leave the hospital, it's going to be because you're all corpsified*."

"You _do _realize that Blunt is a trillion times worse than him, right?"

"But if we were talking about a duel…"

"Oh I think Blunt keeps an invisible sword on his back. Probably a small missile launcher, too. Smithers"

"But that's all theoretical. And besides, Snake could take off his head with the wire thingies before he even got it out of the sheath. Theoretically speaking."

Wolf and Snake shared an exasperated look. Their intended story time was going off on a wild rollercoaster ride.

"Uh huh. Except Blunt can read minds. He'd kill you, I mean Snake, before the thought even crossed our minds."

"Well if we're moving into an episode of Star Trek, Number One**, Snake gets the eye lasers."

'I don't even wear glasses,' he sighed.

Wolf glanced over at the medic. 'Wasn't La Forge black?'

Eagle put up his hands to mimic a picture frame. "I don't know. I can sort of see that."

"Fine. If we stick to stuff we know, he can kill you with his brain***."

Fox crossed his arms in defeat. "…That's…probably true…" The guy did have the aura about him of someone with either a red button under his desk to open up the floor, or just turn you to ash on the spot.

With a groan, Wolf thumped his head down on his arms. This wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Somehow, he figured the teenager had put one over them.

* * *

><p>To their surprise (by that, I mean everyone except Eagle), when the head of MI6 came in to inform Alex of the arrangements the next morning, he didn't bring up their midnight escapade even in passing. Somehow, they had gotten it past him. Snake had to be locked in a nearby storage closet until such time as Blunt and Alex had left. When Wolf let him out (fifteen minutes after he watched the car leave, just in case), the medic glared at him. "Ready to come out of the closet?"<p>

A great deal of strangling followed, as well as a great deal of terse waiting.

* * *

><p>AN: Written as I listened to MCR's _Heaven Help Us_, _Kill All Your Friends_, _House of Wolves _and _The Sharpest Lives._ Anyone who knows their music (**IS AWESOME!**) gets where I'm coming from. Sorry about the short chapter. The next one should be fun. (PS: Anyone here's read the new Dresden Files book, Ghost Story? I want to both kill Jim Butcher and make him get the next book out faster. Another year of waiting. TT_TT)

*I did something similar after my surgery, except that twelve hours after having nothing but a popsicle and water, I convinced the nurse to get me a proper dinner. At two in the morning. Their spaghetti was delicious, and not once did I get sick from eating too much. So take _that_, doctors. (Just kidding. They did an awesome job and loaned me a wheelchair for a couple months. XD)

**For anyone who hasn't been watching the news, Norway just had a ton of shit dumped on them. An awful bombing followed by shooting within only a couple hours, caused by a single man angry at the government, resulted in the deaths of at least ninety-one people. In the US, we don't get much international coverage (because Amy Winehouse's death of a drug overdose or whatever is so much more important than the tragedy in Norway [I didn't even know who Winehouse was until she died.]), but I hope that everyone has at least heard the story. If not, look it up.

***I researched just about every known of amnesia _extensively_ (two full days -_-;). Still, I'm not a psych major. Everything I know is from secondary sources. If I'm incorrect about something…just go with it for the sake of the story. _And she wouldn't shut up about it! The quotes…the quotes!_

*I can't stop quoting _Firefly_.

**…I…might be a Trekkie too… And if you start noticing Star Wars mentions also…well…*ahem*…

***Now we're back to _Firefly_.


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue of _End of the Road_. It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy the finale. R&R!

* * *

><p>It was a happy ending for everyone (minus Dr. Three, who may or may not have been shot a few more times than strictly necessary) and the twenty-two children in the project were retrieved, given new identities, and adopted by families completely unrelated to the espionage or government departments. Despite the obvious interest that immediately sparked in MI6 and MI5, Alex coerced them both into signing multiple documents that he had created himself, ensuring that very few loopholes could be jumped through unless he felt they were necessary. For example, MI5 could keep track of them, but only remotely and while they were children. Neither agency could contact them, except in the case of a life-or-death emergency. If they chose to enter the life of espionage, it had to be completely of their own free will. No coercion, no blackmail, no underhanded means of skirting around ethics.<p>

As of his return, only three days later, Alex informed Blunt, Ben and K-Unit (not all at the same time, of course) that he was resigning from MI6. What he didn't tell Ben and Co. was that the documents filed to protect the rescued children were not the only ones signed and legalized that day. He was leaving espionage but only temporarily. It was an addiction that coursed through his blood, as it had in the rest of his departed family, and one that demanded to be fed. The agreement between Blunt and Alex was that he was to be left alone until a later point at which he would re-enter the business as an adult, with real training—not just the meager amounts that had saved his life previously. Sheer luck and fast thinking had kept him alive prior, and he intended to rely on more than Lady Luck the next time he went up against bloodthirsty terrorists.

With Snake's blessing many _many _weeks later, he was allowed to leave the hospital after recovering fully from nearly every ailment he had suffered—there was still a limp, despite extensive rehabilitation, and the remaining pain was purely psychosomatic—and after thorough examinations by three separate specialists. True to his word, he had sustained no damage on Malagosto, though a thin wound now graced two fingers on his right hand. Somehow, he had gotten that past the medic. There were likely bribes exchanged with the specialists.

A week later found him in Ben's flat, lounging back against the cushions as his roommate informed him of an upcoming assignment. "I should only be gone for a couple days. They're trying to find me a new partner, so I'm taking on the easy jobs 'til then."

Glancing at the calendar marked practically to death with reminders and circled dates, the one that hadn't been marked was the one that stood out to Alex. Tomorrow. "Uh, Ben? I have something that I need to tell you."

The spy ruffled a hand through his hair, the telltale sign that he was flustered, and nodded. "You're moving out."

"I'm m—wait, what? How'd you know?" He put his right ankle over his knee and leaned forward, immediately telling Ben that he had been as careful as humanly possible not to let it slip. When the teenager entered interrogation mode, it was because he didn't know where, or who, his leak had been.

"The little things. You haven't mentioned re-entering school, so either you're getting a job or figured I didn't need to know. For once, the bed was made in the guest bedroom this morning. Besides, you always get that look on your face when I mention running out to restock the fridge or driving K-Unit back down to BB once Snake's arm is out of the sling." He shrugged as he put a napkin on the table to keep his drink from staining the wood. "It was sort of obvious. To me, anyway," Ben added.

"Oh." He resumed a relaxed position. "I guess that makes this easier. Like you guessed, I got a job and I'll have to leave for awhile. But I'm not moving out, at least, not permanently. It'll be for a couple months at a time, but I get tons of time off on top of that."

Ben's eyes narrowed. "It isn't MI6. Or MI5. Or another spying gig."

"Nope."

"Yet you haven't told me what it is, which means you don't think I approve of your career choice."

"You're trying to figure out what it is, aren't you?" the teenager accused, making no effort to deny it.

"I don't need to figure out what it is. I know what it is, and I'm wondering if you have gone bloody insane or just stupid." He held up a hand before Alex could defend his choice. "You don't have to say anything. I get it. It's just stupid that you won't at least try to finish school, being plenty smart and all."

"Would _you_ be able to sit in a classroom all day, worried that someone might run in shooting at a bunch of unarmed kids?"

That got a cringe out of the spy, but he hid any further emotions from his face. Both of them knew that this was a lost cause, trying to change Alex's mind once it was set and determined, and as Ben irritably snatched at a stack of papers demanding his initials, they let the matter slide.

"When do I get to visit?"

Alex glanced up, startled. "Visit?"

"You know, while you're at your new 'job'." He freed his hands to put the air quotes around the last word, a satirical expression on his face that almost worried the teenager.

"I don't even want to know what your evil mind is plotting. Actually, I don't want to know. Just don't blow my cover."

"Really? Signing up under a false name? And you claim to be out of the spy stuff."

"Yeah, well habits take time to change."

* * *

><p>Wolf snorted as one of the potential SAS candidates slipped into what they had dubbed the mud pond. Eagle managed to keep his laughter to a minimum until another tripped into the mud right on top of the first. Then he toppled to the ground from his perch on their cabin's porch, giggling like a little girl on a sugar rush.<p>

Falcon opened the door to see what the fuss was about. "New recruits?"

"Better," the unit commander grinned. "Fresh meat."

"Let me run back to get the popcorn." Instead he settled down beside Eagle's former spot. "Any good ones yet?"

For the next month, Brecon Beacons would get to play host to the preliminary testing of candidates looking to get in. This was the easy part, but one that would undoubtedly flush out the young, energetic ones who thought they could do it all from those with prior military experience. It seemed suspiciously based on a mean-spirited game show, where the goal was to do as much damage to the players' psyches as their soon-to-be-black-and-blue bodies.

"Two or three, but their run times aren't stellar and it's still early in the game."

"Good. I haven't missed too much." The soldier looked around the camp, trying to find someone in particular. "Where's Snake? I don't think I've seen him since you guys got here yesterday."

"Probably finishing up his medical exam. He was trying to pass off his arm as sprained instead of broken, but the nurse wasn't going for it. Had him come back this morning to do more tests." Wolf shrugged. "Doubt she'll find anything. It healed pretty well, if his x-rays are any consideration."

It had been almost a month since the three of them had left St. Dominics, and the sergeant had just permitted them to return to camp. Falcon had arrived only three days before them. While the new units were being coalesced from the no-longer-bright-and-shiny new candidates, all available units were undergoing a two-week string of refresher courses. K-Unit had the not-so-wonderful honor of being among them.

Eagle, sprawled on the muddy ground, put his hands behind his head with a perfectly serene expression. The sight of incoming storm clouds did nothing to deter him. "So who else is here? I bet D-Unit got their butts kicked back here again. Their newbies never seem to hold up like they do in training."

"Dunno about them, but C-Unit, L-Unit and R-Unit were all in the mess hall last night."

"X-Unit's probably going to pick up a couple newbies this time around," Wolf added. "I hear they lost another one last month."

"Might as well merge them with L-Unit, then. They're also down to two after this last run in Kandahar."

"And stick Heron and Lemur in the same unit?" Eagle said, incredulously. "There wouldn't be a unit _left_!"

"Speaking of D-Unit," Wolf stood up, dusting off his cargo pants, "that looks like Tigger coming this way."

Tiger, jokingly named Tigger after his unit discovered the Winnie the Pooh stickers his twin girls had sweetly left in his bag for him, was as stoic and prideful as his name suggested. It was also the likely reason as to why the nickname had stuck so well. Calling your unit commander by the name of a children's book character never went over nicely, but it had persevered nonetheless. He seemed much calmer, walking towards their cabin, than during their prior meeting. As Eagle had commented, his unit had lost three fresh recruits within mere weeks of each other due to no fault of their own. Wrong place at a really bad time.

"Wolf," he greeted in his typical gruff voice (completely wrong for a bouncy, singing Tigger). "You're back from holiday?"

All of K-Unit, minus Wolf who had some composure, cringed at the thought of their time off being called a 'holiday'. More like babysitting. Babysitting a ticking bomb, that is. A clinically insane ticking bomb.

"More than ready to be back."

The man raised an eyebrow. Now _those_ were not words that could be said in relation to Brecon Beacons very often. "Have to say that I agree. We might actually have found a viable person to fill in Dolphin's spot."

"Oh reeeeeally," Eagle commented sarcastically, dragging himself up from the ground to hop back up to his vacated seat. "How much did you bribe this one with?"

"Actually, we had ourselves a volunteer. Bloody good one on top of that. Bunny might outlive all the rest of us."

"Bunny?" the young soldier blurted out as he burst into a new round of childish giggles. "Who the _hell_ gave that poor guy his name?"

Wolf cleared his throat. "Well at least you have someone to balance the comedy out in your unit," he stated as seriously as possible, trying to keep a straight face as Falcon fought to breathe through his laughter.

Tiger rolled his eyes. "I've heard all the jokes, guys. Grow up. He's been in SAS a year already." As a somewhat smallish soldier pushed through a throng of soldiers just leaving the mess hall, cap pulled low over his eyes as the first raindrops came crashing down, D-Unit's leader waved him over. "He gets lost so easily that I'm impressed he can find the cabin every night. Bunny!"

Finally noticing his commander after hearing his name called, the not-so-new recruit shuffled quickly over. "Could you point me to the shooting range again?" He kept his eyes from meeting Tiger's with the nervousness typical of the newbies.

"Right over that way," the soldier said, pointing to a distant spot. "Just follow the sounds of gunfire. Jaguar's headed there too. If you catch sight of him, go where he goes."

"Thanks, Tigger."

"For a newbie," Eagle muttered to Falcon as D-Unit's commander cuffed his teammate over the head, "he's got guts."

"And a limp," Wolf added under his breath, suspicions immediately raised. Louder, he asked, "Bunny, how'd you get the bad leg?"

"I was with X-Unit in Kandahar," came the quiet reply, "up until four months ago*. Been stuck in rehab pretty much since."

"He's lucky he kept the leg at all, much less survived the firefight," Tiger said, clapping Bunny on the shoulder as Wolf felt his heart rate speed up. "Nice bundle of scars to go with it. X-Unit's taking in someone else, so we snatched Bunny from them."

Eagle whistled. "You are either the bravest guy I've met, or the stupidest. At least you guys aren't in Kandahar this time around."

"Don't scare him into running off on us." Turning to Bunny, he pointed out the shooting range again—just to make sure—and shooed him off.

As Snake re-joined his unit, arm no longer confined to a cast or ice packs, he frowned at Bunny as they passed each other and briefly met each other's eyes. "Did Eagle put something in my water this morning, or was that—"

"Bunny," Wolf interrupted meaningfully. "That was D-Unit's newest addition, Bunny."

Snake opened his mouth briefly and closed it again before any words having to do with 'Alex Rider', 'spies', or 'what the hell is he doing here?' could escape. There would be a long private discussion about this subject once Tiger left, but for now, it had to be left untouched. "Oh. New recruit, huh."

* * *

><p>AN: Sooo this is probably the end of any big works I'll be taking on until the winter holidays unless my class schedule is easier than it looks. (I'm going to die. TT_TT) To keep up with the writing, I'm filling in some holes of my _Safehouse_ arc with a string of drabbles called _Downtime_. It won't be up until I get a couple finished, but I'm glad to finally take on something easy for a change.

It's two in the morning so I should probably go to bed now...

**PS: If you really loved this story, you'd leave a review. *hint, hint***

*For a refresher, re-read chapter six (which is technically chapter seven…).


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